Paradise Lost
by southxsouthwest
Summary: In the aftermath of Ian Doyle, Emily finds herself forever linked with Special Agent Mick Rawson. But can it last when dark, violent crimes start popping up all around Emily? Or will it only be a Paradise Lost… (This is NOT a crossover. I'm borrowing one character)
1. Seven Years Earlier

**I got a suggestion for an 'Emily mom' story from a PM (Mendoza was suggested but I saw he's not coming back, and a commenter's idea of Mick Rawson would work better timeline-wise). It also fits really well with the case element of this story. **

**This is really going to be two stories in one. First of all, I'm going to start with building a relationship between Emily/Mick (also dealing with some Doyle fallout the show skipped over), and then we'll do a time jump and move into a new case that will directly impact Emily/them. I'm going to try to make it less sap more banter, but it's post-Doyle so there will probably be a little emotion. I'm most excited for the case aspect because it'll be a lot of clues and more Agent Prentiss than 'Emily.' **

**Starts in Season 7 (with the old team) and then time jump will bring us to the current CM timeline. However, an old team member will come back in 'current time.' **

**WARNING: After the "flash forward" this starts with a sex scene. It's not necessary reading so if you're not into that just skip to chapter 2. The flash-forward is important though. **

* * *

"You've worked for a Prentiss before, how bad was it _really?_" She joked with that ever-present Emily Prentiss smirk. She seemed happy and at ease, but he knew her well-enough to know it was not the case. He knew her well enough to know the fact that she was in his living room meant something was not right. The minute his eyes drifted down to her chewed fingertips he had confirmed it. The whole thing never had been right. Maybe he just wanted it to be 'right.' He wanted her to just be 'seeing things' and wrong. He had hoped- for her sake and selfishly maybe his own- that she was wrong, and she wasn't. Emily rarely was. "I can bring you on. I have permission to hire another new agent. It's in the budget. You can be home more often to take care of Jack. I would make travel minimal for you. All your work would be out of Quantico. And the paperwork- you know I'm stuck with that now. Just think about it, okay?"

"All right."

She couldn't help but laugh at the lack of emotion in his response. It was just so…typical. It was so typical of him in a way that made her feel like at least something was normal. He hadn't really changed from the moment she met him nearly thirty years before. "Is that a yes?"

"I love Jack," He was careful to preface, "But I just can't handle retirement anymore. I'm worried I might get a hobby."

Emily slightly snorted at the idea of Aaron Hotchner collecting stamps or catching butterflies, "No one wants that."

"And I have worked for a Prentiss before. It wasn't that bad, but I like this one a lot better," He offered with a smile. It was a real one that showed his dimples.

They both rose from the beige-colored chairs in his living room, and before he offered a hand she found herself pulling the man into a hug, "Welcome back, Hotch."

* * *

_Seven Years Earlier _

"Emily Prentiss," The accent immediately had tipped her off. She had been meeting up with a few friends from college for a drink. She had stupidly offered to get the group of three their next round, and after walking to the bar had been caught solo by none other than Mick Rawson. "I thought you were dead."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the huge grin he gave her. He looked the same. His hair was still medium-length and mussed. He was wearing his same old uniform of a black leather jacket, jeans and boots. He looked good, and he knew it. She hated that he knew it. She couldn't help but hate it because he was just always so damn cocky. "Disappointed?"

"I was gutted at the news of your burial! Don't be stupid, love," He laughed. "I put a lot of effort into saving ya. It would be such a shame to have it all go to waste." Mick scratched at his scruff and leaned forward to say into Emily's ear, "I've grown fond of you and your very specific charm." He pulled back to look her over again. He studied the black dress with 'U' neck she had been wearing, the "Viper Dress," and couldn't help but smirk at the way she looked. "You here with anyone?"

"A couple old friends from college."

"No," He said before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the bar. "Are you here with any sorry blokes who you'll refuse to phone back?"

Emily rolled her eyes at the little dig about how she didn't call him back two years prior, "You know, surprisingly, the BAU and the constant travel doesn't lend itself to a lot of dating. Neither does being dead."

"Thank god you've risen then, eh?" Mick said with a genuine smile. "And getting dates is hardly a BAU problem. I've had no such issues. Maybe you just bottle it."

"What are you doing now?"

"I am…" He started a little embarrassed, "I have been holed up at Quantico—" He was cut off by a laugh from Emily. "—Doing analysis-" more laughter from Emily, "—It's very important work."

"Is that what they tell you?"

Mick couldn't help but grin at her mockery, "Yes. It's not all bad. It's quite nice, not going from pillar to post all the time."

Emily shrugged and agreed with the man. There was some truth to that. "Even so, what happened?"

"Bureaucrats, whole of red cell's gone tits up," He answered and moved to take a quick drink of his beer. "Couple of pricks decided they don't need us anymore. Budget got moved around, we got the sack, and they gave most of our work to the C.I.A.! I'd like to see them arseholes try to profile." Emily chose to ignore the swipes at the C.I.A. and just reply 'mhmm' to the man. "Back to your dating problem, love."

"Who said I have a problem?"

"You said yourself you can't meet a soul."

"I can meet plenty of people. I just know what some people, some men, do. You know..." She drifted off and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not a murderer."

"No, you're much worse," Emily said and ran her eyes over the man's body, "You're Mick Rawson."

"I'll walk to your car."

Emily scoffed at the offer. It was a scoff, but it wasn't bitter. It was very obviously all in good fun. "I'm not leaving for a long time."

"I'll wait for ya."

And he did. He did wait at the bar for the evening to wind down. She did see him flirting with other woman, but she had also seen him check to make sure she had seen him flirting. Emily had found it- him amusing. She had found herself in an interesting predicament. JJ and Garcia had been nagging her for months about how she needed to get laid. Morgan had offered to take her out to try to meet guys. Even her FBI-appointed therapist had encouraged her to go on_ at least_ one date, which she lied about doing. That was probably the most humiliating moment in her life. Emily wasn't the best at dating to begin with, but she hadn't been on a date in over a year. She hadn't slept with someone in even longer.

That was where her problem lay, because honestly she did miss having sex. She wasn't opposed to finally getting laid, but was sex really worth Mick Rawson? It was a tough trade off. Finally having sex versus having to admit she didn't find Mick Rawson entirely unattractive. She had weighed the horrible situation in her head throughout the night. There was also the fact that Mick Rawson knew something had happened. He had known she had been in some sort of peril. He knew her job. Therefore, the scar on her abdomen and chest would hardly be as embarrassing to show him compared to a regular guy. A stake scar would be a _huge _deal to an accountant. A- former- BAU Red Cell member? Mick Rawson probably wouldn't even notice.

She wasn't sure which factor had possessed her to. She was sure she couldn't stand the man, but one of those aforementioned reasons had made her walk up to the bar and whisper in his ear, "I'm leaving." She couldn't help but smirk when she watched him quickly follow behind out to her car. "Where are you parked?"

"I didn't drive here. Didn't take you for a drink driver."

"I'm just checking to make sure it's locked." She turned around to face him and he moved closer to her. "I hope you have a long walk home."

"No, you don't," He challenged before he leaned about eighty percent of the way. She was pushed up against her car and appreciated he gave her the inch to decide, and then she decided. She wrapped her arms around his neck pulled him in for a kiss. It was fast and harsh. Before she could remind herself that it was Mick Rawson and she hated him, she found herself deepening the kiss and running her tongue against his. She hadn't been kissed like that in a long time.

She was breathless when they pulled apart and was barely able to rasp out, "God knows where that tongue has been."

"Wouldn't you like to know, love."

"You say that, 'love,' more than you would normally in England, don't you?"

"Is that what you think, Agent Prentiss?"

Emily dropped her voice at his question, "Get me a cab and I'll tell you exactly what I think."

"Absolutely," He said and took out his phone to request a car. He was just about to ask if she was going to steal the ride and leave him alone and vulnerable to serial killers in the parking lot, but then he opted to kiss her again instead. So in the parking lot they kissed. And then they got into the car to take them back to Emily's apartment, and they kissed some more.

"You are gone as soon as we're done. Clear?" Emily more ordered than asked in a raspy, breathless voice as they fumbled into her apartment's hallway entrance.

"Bed?"

"It's…um…here," Emily answered between kisses and guided them to her room. On the way, both of them had stripped off their clothes so when they found themselves in the quiet bedroom they were both in their underwear only.

"You're so bloody hot," Mick groaned when Emily took off her bra and fell back on to the bed, allowing him to hover over her.

"You're okay."

"Okay?"

"You're like a 5'10" Englishman," She insulted while she fumbled to push his boxer briefs down.

"I'm 5'11" and Welsh," He corrected before he went back to pressing kisses from her neck down to the top of her chest. He was careful to avoid the brand and scar on her abdomen. His fingers drifted around the scar and further down, into her, earning a quick gasp as he dragged them over her clit. "You like that?"

"No," She lied. She was unable to suppress a moan when his fingers moved back to the spot that had elicited that first gasp. "This is terrible," She was barely able to get out over a moan as that perfect tension began to build in her stomach. Her complaints couldn't help but make him chuckle against her breast. She was just so difficult, always. "Right there…that's... fucking…awful," She protested before she came. He knew she was lying though. He could tell by the way her body tensed and, as he sucked on her pulse point, how her heart rate sped up. It took a few seconds before she found her hands running over his body again, pulling him closer so she could kiss him.

"Do you have a…condom?" He had tried to ask. The way she had moved one of her hands closer to his groin made him incredibly unfocused.

"...I don't think so. Why? Don't you?"

Mick found himself groaning for the exact wrong reason. "I didn't expect—" He was cut off by a laugh that was a mix between mockery and disappointment. "I keep them in my flat! Shouldn't you have your own stash? Equal rights and all."

Emily rolled her eyes at the statement. She was so frustrated with him. What the fuck was wrong with him? First of all, she had been on antibiotics. Her pill was useless. They _really_ needed a condom, and he couldn't even get that right. Second of all, it was Mick Rawson. She had gone through over forty years of her life without getting crabs, and she certainly wasn't going to get them then from Mick Rawson, of all people. Of all the man-whores out there she had to pick the worst one. "If I have one it'll be in that drawer," She pointed to her bedside table. If he said one word about her vibrator she would kill him.

"One?"

"One," She ordered with finality. "Then you're thrown out."

"I'm under the wire," He murmured as he was frantically shuffling around the bedside drawer, and just as she was about to conclude the moment had ended, he had found one. "Is this from the 90's?" He teased as he took out the battered, sad looking condom. He quickly ripped the package and put it on.

"Just hurry up before I change my mind."

And then he had asked it of her. It was respectful, and appropriate, and made her sick, because then she had to admit it.

"Have you changed your mind then?"

"No," She huffed, frustrated that he knew she wanted this as much as he did. "Fuck…" Emily drawled out after he finally entered her. Okay, the moment hadn't completely ended.

"You are so bloody gorgeous, Emily," Was all he could get out, or think of, over a grunt. He had been into her forever. He couldn't believe it was finally happening. "Fucking hell, you feel amazing."

"Can you-" She didn't even have to ask before he dropped his hand down again, both sensations making her come again. Mick Rawson had made her come twice. He was never going to let her live this down. His strokes had been purposeful and drawn out at first, but his movements were quickly becoming more and more rapid. It was a only little while longer before he finished and ever carefully, slightly, collapsed on her. She had said it as soon as he pulled out of her, his head resting on her chest.

"I'm never calling you."

And she kept her promise. She didn't call him….She had texted him two nights later.

* * *

**Please comment if you're interested in reading this because it's going to take a lot of work to set it up right, and I don't want to invest a lot of time if no one is interested!**

**Otherwise I'll just delete and see if another idea hits eventually. Thanks!**


	2. Doctors Are For Sick People

**Thanks for the reviews. I always appreciate some feedback and knowing people are reading. **

**Keep them coming. **

* * *

She had hoped it was a bug as she retched into the Seattle hotel room toilet bowl. At least if it was a bug she was already infected, and couldn't pick anything else up from the not-exactly-clean bathroom floor. You see, the bathroom was all an illusion. The countertop was dark granite and brand new. The bathroom's fixtures were new, but the floor's tiles were cracked at the edges where they met the wall. There was a little space between the floor and the wall too, and, well, there was something that wasn't exactly clean in that space either. And then there was the toilet. It was newish looking, but the seal at the bottom of the bowl was dingy. It looked stained, and just looking at it made Emily want to throw up again. And she was actually _sharing _that room with JJ. The FBI was so cheap.

She had been sick all week and she was sick of it. She was sick of feeling tired. She was sick of throwing up all the time. She was sick of everyone hovering over her, because they're supposed to be on a case, and she was fumbling around like an eighty-year-old grandma of Sherlock Holmes. She felt frail. Her ideal day schedule would be lying in bed all day after her morning throw up sessions. It was all very un-Emily Prentiss like, but she had felt knocked out by this flu. It was the worse thing her stomach had to endure since the stake. Actually, it was worse than the stake. The stake was preferable. _Give me the stake back _Emily internally whined. Internally because she knew JJ was listening to her while she was in their shared bathroom.

"Are you okay?"

Emily's thoughts were interrupted by JJ peaking her head into the cramped motel bathroom. Emily thought she had locked the door… "Yeah, I'm totally fine."

"You look 'totally fine,'" JJ teased with an eye roll. "Why are you even on this case? Did Hotch make you come just to infect me?"

"I'm sorry!" Emily laughed and moved to grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. She thought she was done for the morning. At the very least, she was going to make sure she didn't throw up in front of JJ. "I told you, Hotch said it was all hands on deck. If you recall, when we got here I offered to share a room with him," Emily lied with a smirk.

"Oh, riggght, you and Hotch sharing a room."

Emily shrugged and moved into a more comfortable position on the floor. "He's about as non-sexual to me as you are."

"Hey!" JJ played offended. "And I meant, he's very anal about his space."

"I'm very neat."

JJ couldn't help but snort at the defense as she nodded over to Emily sitting on the bathroom floor, leaning over a motel toilet bowl, her hair sticking to the side of her face. "Maybe normally, but now? You just be glad Henry went through a period where he threw up on me every other day for a month. I'm unfazed by all of this."

Emily got off the floor and followed JJ into the hotel room. She picked up her clothes and toiletry bag off her bed, and headed back into the bathroom to change, all while JJ watched her. "I'm _really_ okay."

"You're _really_ not."

"It's just a stomach flu. I would probably get better faster if I stayed in bed all day, but we don't have a normal life."

Before she could slip back into the bathroom, Emily was reprimanded by JJ again, "Go to the doctor!"

"Doctors are for sick people," Emily challenged and closed the door before JJ could respond.

But JJ was an FBI agent _and_ the mother of a three-year-old boy. She was used to yelling instructions behind closed doors to the fleeing. "'Well' people don't throw up a million times a day for an entire week!"

"It wasn't a 'million times.'"

"Sorry, a hundred thousand times. Go to the doctor!" She yelled before she left Emily alone to get ready, walking down to the small breakfast area where the rest of the team, the ones who didn't have a stomach bug, were meeting each morning.

Emily let the warm water pour over her, and convinced herself that was all she needed. All she needed was a hot shower to 'fix' her. _Cleanliness is next to healthiness. _Emily thought to herself, before she corrected herself that the phrase was actually: 'Cleanliness is next to godliness.' But, whatever, she convinced herself that was basically the same thing.

* * *

Eight days, one case, and some more prodding from JJ, Morgan and Reid later, Emily found herself in her doctor's office. In the end, it wasn't even worrying about being sick that drove her to go, it was everyone else's worry about her being sick that finally made her book the appointment.

At the appointment she explained her recent weight loss, vomiting and lack of energy to the blonde physician. Emily liked her a lot. For a doctor, she was all right. She was around a decade older than Emily. She was a bit sloppy in her appearance, she always had her hair in a messy bun and wore crocs, but Emily didn't care about that. She just cared that her doctor never- and she meant never- asked questions. She just treated. She didn't chit nor chat.

Emily had left out her missed period because that was pretty par the course for a female FBI agent in very high stress situations. JJ's boyfriend, now husband, almost being blown up was definitely stressful. Almost blowing up with him was too. It made perfect sense that she had missed her period. It meant nothing. She was over forty, not twenty. These things didn't happen to women her age.

"Here's what we're going to do," The older woman started. "We'll start with a blood test, see what your levels are and then go from there. I'm going to order a few G.I. tests- make sure that pesky ulcer is actually gone for good, but we can always cancel them if the blood test finds something otherwise. Could be a sugar problem. I don't like to guess. We'll find out soon."

"And when am I doing that?"

"Now," Emily's doctor answered as she took the blood pressure cuff off Emily's arm. "I know you won't come back, otherwise. The lab is on the second floor. I'll send the others now, call you in around three days."

And just like that Emily left.

She did her blood test, much to her chagrin because labs reminded of hospitals and she hated hospitals, and went back to work. But instead of three days, she got a call from her doctor in six hours. It was nearly three in the afternoon when she got the call, and Emily was ready for her new daily routine of wanting to drop dead from exhaustion. She wasn't quite sure why she was so surprised, but she still was when she had heard the words _early results_, _HCG levels_, and _pregnant_. They were followed by a perfunctory 'congrats,' and just like that the phone call was over.

"Yo, Prentiss?" Morgan asked with a concerned look on his face. "You all right? You look like you just saw a ghost. Did Mama Prentiss just call."

"No…uh…" Emily replied, still a little shaken by the call that had just come in on her cell phone. But she was quick to shake herself from the daze. The last time the team had seen her shaken from a phone call had been Doyle related, so she was careful to not give them that impression. Emily knew she had been too slow to reply, and quickly thought of something to cover. "Oh, just my doctor. Nothing wrong with me, and there's nothing they can do. Just have to wait for all the throwing up to pass. Sorry," She finished with a disinterested shrug. It was not exactly a lie.

Morgan seemed satisfied by the boring answer and just replied, "Bummer."

Emily chewed on her bottom lip, thankful Reid was out for the day so she could do it in relative peace. Was it a bummer? That was a difficult question to answer. She still had her 'bad days.' She was still trying to climb out of the dark place she had found herself in after Doyle. She still felt... however she felt. That could take its own afternoon to try to sort out. It hadn't been the easiest to reintegrate back into life, back into being Emily Prentiss. And now she was throwing something else into the equation. Not that she chose to, but she had taken the risk and it had happened. _Risk. _The word stayed with her. Her personal life had been, since she was fifteen, up to that point centered all around minimizing risk. She never thought she would find herself in that place again. She had been careful. The first time she had found herself pregnant she was young, so young. She had trusted John. She didn't feel comfortable going to her mother about birth control, and he was just so sure. He was only a few months older than her, but he was so much more experienced than she was. She had trusted him, and, well, she should not have.

After that experience she swore to herself she would never put herself in that position again. It was traumatizing. Surprisingly, having the abortion was the least difficult part of the whole situation. Going to John, only to have him rebuff her, not being able to ask her mother for help, trying to find a doctor with Matthew, how she was treated afterward- Emily had never wanted to be in that place again. Sometimes, rarely, she would reflect back on that time and wonder how she got through that. So, no, Emily Prentiss was careful when it came to sex. She wasn't "careful, wink" she was CAREFUL.

Hell, half her tenure in the BAU she was basically celibate. Even so, all her adult life she was on birth control, which she never forgot to take. The only time she undermined that form of birth control was the frequent times she had to go on antibiotics to avoid post-BAU-injury-related infections. Even then, she would use a condom every time. Her and Mick had used a condom! If she had known it broke she would've taken Plan-B and immediately gotten tested. But she didn't know, so she didn't. She wagered that neither of them knew. For all of his faults, she didn't think Mick would keep that to himself. And there she was, again, at forty-one no less. That would be the funniest part of this whole ordeal if it wasn't, you know, horrible.

But was it horrible? This was something she had wanted. She had wanted it for a while. She loved kids. Then again, more recently she had expected to adopt whenever. She didn't think that over forty and stake to the abdomen were the best fertility treatments. And there it popped into her head again: _This was something she had wanted for a long time. _It just never seemed to happen. She never met anyone she felt was worth putting in the time with. Emily was just a lone wolf. She was okay with that. There would be times after hard cases where she wished she had someone to go home to. She wished there was a 'Kevin' or a 'Will' who would be waiting for her. But it didn't happen, and she was okay with that, too. So the 'guy' didn't happen and neither did the kid. It would take a lot of effort to have a baby on her own. It would take treatments, and shots, and Emily just didn't think she was up for all of that. She wasn't sure she wanted to finish a long case and then ask JJ, or god forbid Morgan, to give her a shot of fertility treatments. The next logical choice would have been adoption, and that never happened either because that took time, too. If she could just take a kid home from a case it would expedite the process, but it did not work that way.

It wasn't that she had never wanted kids. She would even sometimes find herself envying JJ or Hotch for having them. There were just a litany of factors that led her to being 41 with no baby…until roughly eight minutes prior. Yes, it was unexpected, but having a baby wasn't exactly a bummer.

But being stuck with morning sickness with no end in sight? Having to buy new clothes? Telling Hotch? Having Strauss know? Going on maternity leave? Having _Mick Rawson's_ baby?

Yeah, those were all definitely 'bummers.'

_Mick Rawson._

The name sat with her. Even though no one was watching, she found herself rolling her eyes anyway. "This is going to suck," She mumbled under her breath.

* * *

**Oops...**

**I rewatched the Fight episode of CM before starting this, and Emily and Mick did have good chemistry. I don't know how I didn't notice it before. **

**We get Will every so often, we could've gotten the superior (in my opinion) ****Mick Rawson as a recurring character. **


	3. It's Mick Rawson

**My goal is for shorter chapters compared to my last story so I can update daily or every other day. **

**I haven't done a proofread for this chapter so I apologize in advance for errors. **

* * *

She was pretty sure when it had all happened. Granted, she had slept with Mick Rawson more than a few times after that night, but it would have been just her luck to wind up pregnant from the first time- when they had both botched it a little. Well, mostly him, what guy doesn't have condoms? Anyway, narrowing it down did have some benefits because she was pretty sure the exact date, which she was able to put into a pregnancy calculator to spit out that she was around nine weeks pregnant. Apparently, there was a benefit to having only slept with one guy over the past year…and a half.

She grimaced at her lack of a sex life as she waited for Hotch in his office. It was nearly a week after she had first found out the news. If she thought her sex life was bad before, imagine her as a single mom? A single mom, which was why she found herself telling her unit chief before anyone else. It was just a weird situation she had found herself in. Under normal circumstances she would probably tell JJ first, but JJ was on her honeymoon after her recent marriage to Will. It was funny. Hotch was probably sure she was meeting with him to confirm she was moving to London to take the Interpol job, but that had been put on hold. It had been put on hold- just for a year because Clyde had promised her he would be after her again in a year's time, because she couldn't pretend the father didn't exist. He deserved a chance to get to know, or reject getting to know his child. Either or, Emily could handle either situation. But since they weren't together, she found herself in Hotch's office, telling him first.

"Very sorry, Prentiss," Hotch breathed out as he jogged into the room. He had been in a meeting with Erin Strauss, and dreaded the next one he was likely going to have to have about who to hire as Emily's replacement. It would be a difficult task. He would need a linguist who also had specialties in child advocacy and terrorism. Wasn't exactly the easier mix to find. "What did you need to see me about?"

Emily found herself digging her nails into the leather chair sat across from Hotch. It was just Hotch, but there was still something so unnerving about the whole thing. What was it about her that made talking about pregnancy so embarrassing? She was a grown woman. She could have any baby she wanted. Emily cleared her throat and used her internal pep talk to get some confidence. "You know I haven't been feeling well lately."

"Yes? Are you…ill?"

It was the slight look of fear that played across his features that made Emily soften her tone and lean forward so far that she was almost touching the desk, "Oh, no. No, nothing like that. I just found out that I'm, uh, newly pregnant." _Newly pregnant? Who says that? _Emily chided herself.

"Oh, congratulations, Prentiss," Hotch offered warmly. He found himself relived for two reason. Number one, there was nothing wrong with her. Number two, he didn't have to have a new team member for longer than a few months while she was on maternity leave. "Are you– I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

"I'm not," She clarified. This was awkward. "It just happened. There's not much to tell…Anyway I am technically what they call a high-risk pregnancy, and I needed to tell you—"

"–Take you out of the field."

"Yeah," Emily said as she sat back in the chair and moved to pick at her fingernails in her lap. "I can still travel and do the rest of my job normally, but probably no kicking down doors or getting shot at."

"That's probably not a good idea," Hotch smiled with a small chuckle. "Well, I am happy for you. Thank you for keeping me in the loop. When you first came on, JJ wasn't in the field much and we got on just fine. I don't see why there would be any problem with you staying behind at precincts, checking out leads, unless..."

"No, that's all totally fine," Emily waved him off as she got up from the chair. She wasn't going to get stuck on desk duty just because she was pregnant. "Thanks Hotch," she added just about as she was going to slip out the of the office.

"Prentiss?"

"Yes?" She asked, stopping right in his doorway.

"Good luck."

It was sweet and said with a smile. She had merely nodded in reply and thought of how much things had changed over the past five years. She never thought that Hotch would be congratulating her on an accidental pregnancy, let alone that he would be the first one she would tell.

Emily let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding out, but it was at the wrong time because Penelope Garcia was right there to witness it.

"Oh my god!" Garcia shrieked as her eyes quickly fill with tears. The blonde pointed accusingly at the the other woman, "You're leaving us!"

"No," Emily shushed and started to briskly walk to Garcia's lair, motioning for the technical analyst to follow her. "No, I swear I'm not."

"I, I, just, why?" Was all Garcia got out before they were both in her office.

"What?" Emily laughed. "No, I—"

"You're leaving! You just didn't want me to make a scene! Well, Emily Prentiss, I am making a scene. You cannot leave this team! You can't leave us we barely got you back. I—"

"Garcia!" Emily cut in with a voice that was a mix between laughter and a huff. She shook her head at the other woman's dramatics and dropped into the spare chair by the wall of computers. "I was talking to Hotch. I haven't told anyone yet, well beside Hotch, but—"

"—You're pregnant."

"Wha…" Emily trailed off and scratched at her temple in confusion. "How did you know?"

"Oh-my-god!" Garcia exclaimed with a clap of her hands before she let out a huge gasp. "I was kidding. Oh my god, you're preggars. You are with child! You're all knocked up with nowhere to go."

Emily nearly choked on a laugh at the odd expression, "Yeah, that."

Garcia let out another squeal and plopped into her chair. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. She just loved a good gossip session, and what is better than a gossip session involving a baby? "How the hecksy did this happen? I need details. I need to know everything. How far along are you?"

"I have to get that exact number from my OBGYN, but probably around nine weeks. So please let's just keep it quiet until I get out of the first trimester." She was nervous when she added, "I don't want to lose it and then have everyone know. We can keep this just between us, yeah?"

"Oh, honey," Garcia cooed and put her hands comfortingly on the other woman's knees. "First of all, you're not going to. This is happening. I can feel it deep in my bones. And second, even if it did happen, which it won't, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. It happens."

"Yeah, well I just hope it doesn't."

"It won't," Garcia reassured again. "Hey! Don't think this news about your 'occupied' Prentiss hotel means I'm not mad at you. I didn't even know you were seeing anyone! I still want, nay expect, those deets."

"I'm not seeing anyone," Emily defended with hands raised in surrender.

"Well…" Garcia drawled out before flashing an evil grin. "Either you got turkey basted or you were out locking legs and switching gravy with some hunky man. So which is it?" Emily couldn't help but groan and rub her temples at the question. She was not sure which was worse: Garcia's question or her answer. "Gumdrop!" Garcia said a little louder, snapping her fingers in front of Emily's face. "Is the daddy a one night stand?"

"It's not exactly that, but mostly, yeah."

"Do you not know his name?" Garcia gasped a little. This was gossip she needed.

"God, I wish," Emily slightly groaned and pinned a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's Mick Rawson."

If Garcia had thought she was interested before, she _really_ was then. "Supervisory Special Agent Mick Rawson? That hot Brit gone done knocked you up!"

"Something like that," Emily sighed.

"You've been seeing him for how long and haven't told me!" Garcia exclaimed with a slight swat to Emily's knee. "And now you've made me hit a pregnant."

"It didn't happen like that. I meant what I said two years ago. I haven't seen him, I mean come on Garcia…" Emily drifted off with a pointed look that said: _Did you see him at my fake funeral?_ "I saw him at a bar," Emily clarified. She really wished JJ was there to curb some of this enthusiasm. Even Morgan or Reid would do the job. Okay, maybe not Morgan.

"Go on," Garcia motioned with her hand. "Tell me how my little gumdrop found herself knockin' boots with the sniper."

"Just to make this clear, we are not together. This just happened," Emily was quick to clarify. "I got a call from an old friend, Fiona. I knew her from Italy and later at Yale. She and another girl I knew, Mallory, went out for drinks in Dupont and Mick was there. And we talked...ish."

"What do you mean 'ish'?" Garcia questioned and moved her chin to rest on her joined hands. She loved this day. "Actually, skip to the good part. Because, honey, you did way more than talk," Garcia reminded with a point to Emily's flat midsection.

There was nothing there, but Emily still moved to straighten out her sweater. "You know, we, had fun."

"How much fun?"

"Enough fun."

That was when Garcia had wished JJ was there too. She knew the blonde could help her get more details out of Emily. "So it was only one time then?"

"Yes, mostly."

"Mhmmmmmm."

Emily couldn't help but break into laughter at Garcia's interrogation. This was normal. It was a normal girl-talk and she needed this. She needed some lightness to the situation. As annoying as it was, it felt nice. It felt real. She had spent the last few days trying to come to terms with the news, and she thought she was finally getting there. To have someone else genuinely happy for her would help. It wasn't perfect by any means, but she had wanted this. "It was one time. And then I called him a couple times after that. I had a really old condom, though, and I think with the timing it must have been that time."

"What was he like?" Garcia didn't add 'in bed' because she was sure Emily knew what she meant. Emily did, she just chose to answer the question in another way.

"He's the same he always was."

"Hot!"

Emily rolled her eyes, "Arrogant."

"He's confident. So is my baby boy."

"Well, I'm not sleeping with Morgan am I?"

"You should be so lucky!" The technical analyst scolded before she giggled. "Well, I always liked him."

"He's egotistical."

Garcia waved Emily's complaints off, "That's the same as arrogant."

"He's— He's overly flirty."

"And thank god for that. Or else those eggs would be expired and I wouldn't have gumdrop junior coming into the world."

"He's just..."

"—Dreamy."

"Annoying," Emily argued. She tried to suppress a yawn, but this baby was really draining her of all her energy. Typical of something that was the product of Mick Rawson.

"The annoying father of your baby."

"Yeah."

Garcia was just about to let the other woman go before her last question popped into her head. "Wait! What did he say? Is he excited to be a daddy. Actually, he was always a _daddy, _but is he excited to be a daddy-daddy?"

Emily's eyes darted away from the blonde as she quickly spit it out, "Haven't told him yet—"

"—You told Hotch before you told the baby daddy!"

"I told you before him too!" Emily defended.

"Well, that's different. Of course you told me! I'm the all-knowing."

"I'm waiting. I don't want to talk to him unless I have to. Garcia, it's so weird to tell this guy you've only slept with a few times that you're pregnant. It's not like JJ and Will. I know nothing about him."

Garcia softened her expression, "Oh, Emily, my sweet Snarky McSpy. You need to stop living in the world of worst case scenarios, and tell that man he knocked ya up!"

"I know you're right…"

"There are no buts. Go tell him."

"Can I—"

"You cannot send him an email of your sonogram!"

Emily narrowed her eyes at the other woman, who had by then pulled her off the chair to her feet, "I was going to say text him."

"No!" Garcia yelled and pushed Emily out of her office door. "Do it in person like a normal person. My god, do I have to do everything around here?"

* * *

She stared at her cell phone sitting on her desk. Garcia was right. As much as she dreaded it, and as superstitious as she was being, she had to tell Mick Rawson. He was the father. And maybe he wouldn't be interested in raising it and it would be left to her. She could handle that. That would be easier in its own way. But until it got to that point, she had to tell him.

So far she had been lucky. She had found herself pregnant right around the bombing case, and by the time it was real the BAU had been pulled off rotation for a couple weeks. But she had told Hotch because their number was being called up again in two or so weeks. She could have probably hid her pregnancy a little longer, but the fact was the team would likely find out in two weeks time, at 11 weeks. And she didn't really _want _to hide it beyond that. She was done with the secrets and lies. She couldn't do that anymore. They had made her want to pack up and run away again. If she was going to be able to stick it out in the BAU, after all that had happened, she had to start being honest. She had to be a 'real person.'

So yes, at 11 weeks when she would be back in the field otherwise, she was going to tell the team. Which made Garcia right. She couldn't tell the team before Mick Rawson. There was something mean about that. If she were to admit it to herself, the man wasn't awful. He was just Mick Rawson. There wasn't any reason why the entire team should find out before him. Telling Hotch was fine because he made tactical decisions, and if a case did pull them out from their vacation, he needed to know she was not good to go. Telling Garcia was fine too because otherwise she would have had a meltdown about Emily "leaving." But telling Morgan, and Reid, and JJ, and Rossi before Mick? That would be pushing it. Maybe telling JJ would have been okay, but outside of her that was something that even Emily had to admit was a little unkind.

It was the internal rambling of being 'unkind' that made her pick up the phone and call Mick. He had picked up on the third ring.

"Hello Agent Prentiss, I have to admit I'm surprised by your phoning me! So early too, normally I expect a one word text at two in the morning," He exaggerated in a cheery voice. She sent two word texts, for the record.. "How can I help you?"

"Uh," She found herself incredibly nervous at the sound of his voice. "Can you come over to my house tomor— tonight? Can you come over around six tonight?"

"Sex?"

"Six."

"Quick shag for ya?" He questioned in a smug tone.

"Six! Seriously, it's important, okay? Can you be an actual adult person for once? I'm practically begging you."

She heard him laugh on the other end of the phone. "I love it when you beg for me."

"Mick!"

"Fine," Mick relented with a smirk. "You phoned me for something serious. I'm touched—"

"—Shut up."

"This is more than a bit surprising, but got it. You want me to bring over some take away?"

It was a nice offer and Emily couldn't help but let out a small smile at the consideration. "Yeah, sure, whatever you want."

"A curry? Pork pie? Kebab?"

All of those options made Emily want to retch, "Anything but those. I have to go." She had quickly dropped her phone before she rushed off to the BAU bathrooms.

In the meantime, a very confused Mick Rawson was left on the phone, "Emily? You said I could pick anything. Sushi? Pizza? Emily?"

* * *

**The big convo will be next chapter. **

**Also, are people more interested in a boy or girl? It doesn't really matter for the story so I'm open to hearing preferences. **


	4. We Need to Talk

It was a rhythmic knock at her front door that let Emily know Mick had arrived. She swung open the door to be greeted by Mick Rawson's always overconfident expression, paired with pungent Chinese food. She was not sure which was the one that had made her run to the bathroom to throw up. Okay, fine, she knew it was the food.

"You okay, Prentiss?" Mick had asked as he walked into the apartment and left the bags of the food on the counter. "Emily?"

"I'm fine."

"You look like you just came off a bender. Absolutely shambolic looking, Prentiss."

"What's your excuse?" She questioned from the toilet bowl.

"Nothing, I'm a perfect ten. James Bond prototype, let's get that clear straightaway," He corrected with a sympathetic look towards the woman in front of him. He was thankful she didn't see his pity, or else he was convinced she would have thrown him out. "You are a sorry sight. If you have the flu and wanted me to bring a soup, I would have brought that if you had let me know," He offered before he leaned in the bathroom doorway watching her. She was pale and vomiting. She looked ill. "Do you want me to take you to hospital?"

"No," She groaned, exhausted. The child of Mick Rawson was going to be her downfall. "I'm sorry."

"No, I am!" He exclaimed a little too loudly. "I'm sorry you're not feeling anything but shitty. I will confess it wasn't the fun I had expected, seeing you vomiting, but it's an experience in its own way, eh?"

"We need to talk," Emily told him flatly before she flushed the toilet and cleaned herself up. She had accepted his help to get off the cold, hard bathroom floor. Maybe that was why people used to carpet their bathroom floors, for morning sickness. She had always found it disgusting, but she had kind of wished she had a softer bathroom floor lately. She thought about choosing a better time to tell him. Maybe after dinner? But there was no such perfect time. So, instead, after he had followed her back to her sofa and sat down, she decided to just bite the bullet. It was better to just get it out there.

She picked at her nails as she prepared to tell him, "There's no delicate way to put this, but I don't have the flu. I'm pregnant."

Mick just nodded and said, "Oh."

Emily cringed a little when she said the next part, "And it's yours."

"Got that," He said and ran his hands through his hair. "I bet it was the 90's dodgy condom." Emily found herself giving into a bit of laughter at the comment. It was probably true. It was probably one she had found years ago and just threw into the drawer, which got boxed and shipped over and over again over the years. Maybe it was from the 90s after all. "You're sure? You did all the tests, then? Had a wee all over?"

"Yes, I peed all over my apartment, and when that was inconclusive I went to the doctor," She stated sarcastically.

He could tell she was sick and maybe- definitely- a little nervous, so he let the dig go without returning one back. "What did you decide?"

It was a valid question. Emily had thought about it herself. As she had gotten older she had decided that the most traumatizing part of her abortion was that it was made to be traumatizing by other people. It was traumatizing because of what that priest had done to her and Matthew. It was traumatizing because she was too terrified to be open with her mother. It was traumatizing because she was just so damn young. But it was the right decision for her at the time. She didn't look at it with regret or dream about could have been. As far as Emily was concerned, it was the right decision for her. Any other way couldn't have been. That being said, she wanted _this_. She was old enough. She was established enough. If Mick Rawson had run out of the house screaming, it wouldn't end her world. She could handle this. She wasn't fifteen anymore.

"I've decided I want to keep it."

"Right."

She couldn't figure out if it was a disappointed 'right' or if he was just processing. "Listen, I understand that it happened when we were just having fun. We weren't— We didn't want this to happen. I know this isn't what you were looking for, and I don't expect anything from you. No hard feelings if you walk."

"Emily," Mick had begun in a voice that was much softer than the usual bantering one she was used to. "It's mad. It's absolute madness, but I am in it. I'm not leaving it to you to do alone, okay? Just need a minute to process."

"I mean it."

"So do I," He replied with a shrug. "Do I have to marry you now? Get the 'just wed' car and the whole lot?"

"No!" She knew he was teasing her, but she wanted to put that out there anyway. "I wouldn't even marry someone I liked. We don't even know each other. I don't even know your name."

Mick feigned shock at her statement, "What do you mean you don't know my name? I've heard you calling it out on multiple occasions. While in the throes of passion—"

"—I know 'Mick.' I don't even know what it's short for."

Mick grinned at Emily, "Mickothy, of course."

"Cute, it's short for Michael," Emily scoffed.

"So you do know my name," He sniggered. He had got her that time.

"The point remains, I've known my pharmacist longer."

"If it's twenty years then I'm wagering he's the bloke who sold you the dodgy condom," Mick teased before he crossed his legs and spread out a little more on the sofa. "I've never done this before, gotten a woman pregnant. I don't know the rules of this. I swear I'm not an arsehole."

"That's debatable," She quickly joked. For some reason she didn't want his words to be the ones that had been left hanging in the air. It was a weird situation. It was a situation that was to be expected at twenty-two not almost forty-two. "You want to be a good guy."

"Right. We both did this and I don't want you to be stuck with it all on your own…It could be an adventure?"

"Mick," Emily was careful to make sure her tone wasn't too harsh or hormonal. She already hated how hormonal she felt. She needed to ask Reid if there was some hormonal spell fathers put on the mothers' of their children, because she wasn't sure if she had ever seen Mick Rawson so…likable. "I can do this on my own. I am totally fine with it."

"Sorry, love, I'm not," He said with finality and took out his phone. "When's the next medical?"

"This week."

"Time and dates, please," He ordered in a cheery voice.

"You're coming?" Emily questioned. She found herself a bit shocked as she studied the man who had been fidgeting around with his calendar app on his phone. Oh my god, she was having a baby with Mick Rawson.

"Absolutely, I want firsthand intel. Can't trust you to not muck up the details. Might even do that on purpose so I won't be there in room."

"You're _so_ not invited into the delivery room."

"I'll find a way," He brushed her off. "Have surveillance put in. Garcia and I get on well enough. Come on now, time and dates."

"It's Thursday at eight am."

"A.M.?" He groaned in a way that amused her.

"Still want to come?"

"Yeah," He replied a less little excited. "How old is the wee lad?"

"How far along am I?" Emily laughed at him. She was sure he added in the 'wee' just to be obnoxious. "Probably around 9 weeks."

"You've known nine weeks already?"

"You're so...dumb," Emily cackled. For the amount of time Mick Rawson probably spent around the female body, he sure as hell didn't know anything about it. "I probably had an inkling around 7 weeks. I got it confirmed around 8 weeks and took a week to process what I've gotten myself into before I called you. I just needed time to sit with it."

"How many of the appointments have you had?"

"Just the one with my normal doctor."

His eyes narrow at the remark, "That seems like an awfully long time to make you wait. In the films it's very snap, snap."

"She's good, my new OBGYN," Emily shrugged. She had opted to not make fun of him for his very limited knowledge on the subject. He had admitted to her he had never done this before. He was trying with her. "She normally has a waiting list. She only was able to fit me in because—" Emily cut herself off before she said it.

"Because?"

"Nothing."

"I'm a profiler too. You have to tell me if it involves the tyke. That's the rule," He ordered with a self-satisfied grin. Everything about Mick Rawson seemed self-satisfied.

Emily groaned at what the man had said. Technically it did involve their baby. _Their_, she still couldn't believe she was having a baby, let alone a baby with Mick Rawson. Just as she felt she had made peace with it, it would pop into her head. _You're having a baby with Mick Rawson. _"She fit me in because I'm classified as a geriatric pregnancy. Don't laugh!" He laughed.

"This is just brilliant."

"I asked her if a geriatric pregnant woman could disable a bomb. Apparently that answer is 'yes' because I fall into the 'geriatric pregnancy' age bracket…" She grumbled as the word 'bomb' caught his attention.

"Bomb? You need to be more careful. I can't be placed on every bloody rooftop about to save you."

"Sure," She rolled her eyes and picked at her fingernails, which was becoming extremely hard to do because they were in excellent condition after a couple of weeks of pregnancy vitamins. "This is so awkward."

"It's awkward because you're making it awkward. We both knew it was a possibility this could happen," Mick laughed and scratched at his scruff. It was a 'new' situation to him, but it wasn't completely hopeless. He had slept with this woman, and she was having a baby. It was unexpected, but it could have been worse. It wasn't as if she was a mess. He had slept with a few messes before. If he had to accidentally get a woman pregnant, he was at least lucky it was this particular woman. She was Emily Prentiss. She was smart and beautiful. There were worse gene pools to pass on to a kid. He wasn't sure about the whole 'dad' thing, but he wasn't completely thrown off that a woman he had sex with, with a dodgy condom to boot, had wound up pregnant. It was surprising, but not _that _surprising. "Right, then, now should we?" He asked with a wink.

She didn't even need him to clarify. "I'll throw up on you."

"On purpose?"

"Probably."

The rest of the night was relatively uneventful given the circumstances. Mick had put the smelliest food outside, and had opted to just have the beef and broccoli. He gave his white rice to Emily. She had that along with the egg drop soup, which she had doubled checked to make sure was safe to eat. The conversation was a little strained, but it was fine when it was focused solely on appointments. Mick had thanked her three times over the course of the evening for telling him, which had shocked Emily because of course she told him. Maybe if he had been abusive or violent she wouldn't, but Mick Rawson was just Mick Rawson. He was arrogant. He was obnoxious. He always looked perfectly unkempt and maybe a little unprofessional, but his child deserved to meet him, and vice versa.

He had left just before ten with a hug. It was a hug she didn't necessarily want, but he had reminded her: _You're the mother of my child. Don't be a tosser. I'm giving you a bloody cuddle, a little cwtch. _It was short, and sweet, and loose, and had ended with Emily giving Mick's back a pat. It was friendly. The 'pat' was to remind them both it was a friendly hug. They would do this whole baby thing as some weird sort of friends. Emily told herself that Mick Rawson wasn't the type of man to settle down. And she was not the type of woman to settle down with Mick Rawson.

* * *

"There's this place I saw online," JJ greeted as she plopped herself down on the edge of Emily's desk. She had been gone for a couple of weeks on her honeymoon, and she was desperate to catch up with everyone, and, yes, brag a little. "Tonight we have to go."

"JJ, where did you even come from?" Emily laughed and found herself looking around the bullpen to see where the woman had suddenly appeared from. She had missed the blonde. There had been so much going on in her life, and JJ was kind of her person to talk about that kind of stuff with. "How was it?"

"Amazing!" The blonde answered and looked wistfully up at the BAU ceiling, as if she was remembering. "Have you ever been to Muskoka?"

"No, it was fun though?"

"Henry loved it. At first when Will said he wanted to go to a lake I was very against it, but it wasn't a normal lake. It was pretty perfect. He's still healing so just relaxing in nature was what was best. And I like nature; felt like being back home in P.A."

"I'm glad," Emily warmly smiled. She was happy her friend was so happy. JJ had been put through the ringer over the past year. Emily knew there was some seriously sketchy, complicated work JJ was involved in before she went back to the BAU. Then, JJ had to deal with her Ian drama, and Reid hating her for a while over it. On top of all that, that same year, both Will and Henry had found themselves in serious danger. Emily felt that if there was anyone who needed a relaxing couple of weeks it was Jennifer Jareau.

"It was great, so another big 'thank you' to _someone_ for saving my husband," JJ laughed before she thought back to the last case. If it wasn't for Emily there would have been no wedding. Will would be dead. It was as simple as that. JJ cleared her throat at the memory that had briefly popped back up. "I'm sharing all the details tonight," The blonde started before she checked to make sure Morgan wasn't around. She didn't want him inviting himself. This was strictly for the girls to catch up. "There's this new sushi-slash-whisky bar."

Emily immediately cringed at the suggestion. The only place worse for her would be a Sushi-slash-Whisky-slash-Hit-in-the-stomach bar. "I don't like whisky," She weakly offered.

"You like whisky."

"You're thinking of Rossi."

"Same difference," JJ joked in a faux-serious voice. "Em, okay, you can have sushi and water."

"I can have water. What a night!" Emily laughed sarcastically and brushed her hair behind her ear. Well, it was as good a time as any. She had found herself saying that a lot more frequently.

"And sushi."

"Jaje, I am so sorry, but I really can't. I really missed you and want to catch up, but I can't…" Emily repeated exaggerating the 'can't'. "I can't have raw fish, or alcohol….or soft cheeses."

"You can't?" JJ questioned before her expression changed from confession to excitement. "You can't! The throwing up—"

"—I swear we can talk about this tonight if you pick anywhere else."

"Sure! I'm sorry," JJ laughed. She really did pick the worst place given the brunette's situation. "How? You didn't tell me. I didn't even know you were trying—"

"—I wasn't."

JJ picked up on the other woman checking to make sure no one else was listening. It was obvious that it was a story that she didn't want completely out there yet. It was just how Emily was. She was a private person. JJ totally accepted that. Plus, she had felt the same way, and had wanted to kill Will when he had shown up to announce her pregnancy to the BAU. She would've much preferred to tell Emily and Garcia first. Then, moved on to Hotch and, finally, 'the boys.' Therefore, she was happy to afford Emily that same courtesy, "We'll have dinner at your place. Cheese pizza, no toppings, trust me," JJ advised and got off of Emily's desk. She stopped herself before she left, though. "Let's just say I missed you, and that's the only reason why we hugged." Emily just nodded in reply and got up to give the other woman a hug. "I want to know everything," JJ reminded with a whisper before she walked off to her own desk.

* * *

**By the way, hypothetically, are you all into mature scenes or nah? Should I pepper some in throughout?**

**Thanks for reading and your feedback! You are all the best. **


	5. It Looks Just Like You

**The chapter is a little longer this time.**

* * *

It was another night, another pregnancy talk in Emily's apartment. Except this one wouldn't prove to be anywhere near as strange. Having to tell Mick Rawson was weird. She barely knew the man, and although some women might have been into his particular charm, she wasn't. Okay, maybe she was a little more into him than she had let on, but that didn't change anything. She still barely knew him. She hadn't really been sure how he would react. Of course, he was fine with it, but she knew that telling her friends would be far less nerve-racking than the whole 'I know we just had sex a few times, but I'm pregnant! You're the dad, congrats!' from the day before.

She thought back to the conversation as she changed into an old 'Yale' t-shirt and sweats. She was determined to wear her old, form-fitting clothes for as long as possible, but at home she just wanted to be comfortable. As she unfdressed she fixated on Mick's expressions, again. He was surprised, but not that surprised. He didn't seem panicked. It wasn't that it was something that he wanted exactly, but he didn't seem completely opposed either. It had went about as well as could be expected. She was happy with that. He wasn't a prototypical 'family man' like Hotch or Will, but she was never into them anyway. _Not that I was ever into Mick Rawson_ she reminded herself again. Sure enough, just as she had been thinking of the night before and how 'not bad' it had been, her phone had rung. It was none other than Mick.

"You don't have to call me everyday," She reminded the man as soon as she had picked up.

"Well, hello to you too, darling. Thanks for asking, I'm doing brilliantly. Hope I can say the same for you. You sound a bit knackered I must admit," He teased in a very chipper voice. "Am I free tonight? Absolutely, I'd be happy—"

"—I'm having friends over," She quickly cut him off with an eye roll. He was not getting another invitation to her apartment, unless it was a parenting thing. And they could do that on the phone.

"Who?"

"Friends from work," She answered and walked to answer the knocking and chatting coming from behind her front door. She had never been so glad that Garcia lacked volume control, because for a quick second after the first knock she was worried Mick had just shown up unannounced and uninvited. "You don't know them," She added and answered the door, waving the other women in.

"You are a cheeky little liar aren't ya? I know Garcia…and the other blonde, too."

"The other blonde?" She asked with a shake of her head. "You mean JJ? I'm hanging up now," Emily said as the other two women intently watched the conversation the brunette was desperately trying to end. JJ had no idea who the mystery man was, but Emily seemed to hate him, which probably meant that she really liked him.

"You're a cruel woman."

"Bye."

"Not even a 'good' bye. I have never-" He was cut off by the quick beep that had let him know the call had ended.

"Was that him?" JJ asked a little too excitedly, and rushed into Emily's kitchen to grab a glass of wine. That was before remembering it wasn't in the best of taste to drink wine in front of a pregnant woman. Emily would probably give her and Garcia her stash anyway by the end of the night. So, JJ grabbed a bottle of water instead. "Was that the dad on the phone?"

"Tell her! I can't keep it in," Garcia ordered as she dropped next to Emily on the sofa, and leaned forward to grab a piece of pizza off the coffee table. "I want all the credit for my self-restraint. Just wait 'til you hear this, little missy."

"Was it him, Em? Is he an FBI agent too?"

"Please, as if Supervisory Special Agent Jasona Bourne would procreate with a normal."

Emily chuckled at Garcia's assessment and reminded her, "You were dating an FBI Agent. Jaje is the only one who has a 'normal,' anyway."

"Will is a cop," JJ pointed out before she gave in. "Fine, he's a normal. Who is the guy? You didn't make it seem like you went to donor route. Especially because I know for a fact you would have had me give you those fertility injections. Or Spence, and he would've spilled to me. It's not like you'd go to Garcia—"

"—Hey!"

"Or Rossi," JJ cackled at the mental image. "So, who's the guy? Anderson?"

"What? No!" Emily was quick to shut that down. Anderson? Strauss's right hand man? She would never. "It's–"

"Mick Rawson!" Garcia cut in, before she looked a little ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Emily! I couldn't keep it in any longer."

"Go ahead," Emily motioned for Garcia to go on. Maybe she should have had Garcia tell Mick she was pregnant. She could've just stayed in the bath and hid.

"Mick Rawson got her pregnant!"

"Wait…" JJ drifted off and furrowed her brows. "Is this the Mick Rawson I'm thinking of? The one I told you to go after two years ago?"

"No."

"Emily?"

"Yes," Emily sighed.

"What happened to 'oversexed egomaniac?" JJ had laughed and looked over to Garcia.

"The oversexed part might have been right because…" Garcia finished the sentence with a point to Emily's still flat stomach. Garcia felt that effect was going to be so much better after she was showing. There had been two days in a row of her pointing to a normal Emily Prentiss stomach to make a point.

"Whatever happened to 'it wouldn't go anywhere'?" JJ asked, imitating how Emily sounded when she droned on negatively.

"It didn't go anywhere."

"Obviously not," JJ laughed sarcastically. "And can I just say? O_f course._ Of course, it _had_ to be an elite sniper."

"Right?"

Emily raised an eyebrow at the two women. "What do you mean?"

JJ took the lead to answer that question. "It was always going to be a Navy Seal—"

"—Or an Army Ranger—"

"—Or CIA black ops—"

"—Or an FBI Agent," JJ cut off Garcia with a snicker. "You were never going to end up with a mailman or grocery store manager."

"I didn't end up with anyone," Emily said pointedly. She wanted to make that clear. She elaborated just to prove there was nothing else there. "After we finished the case in Chicago I met with some old friends from college, and he was there…It was fine."

"It was fine?" JJ laughed. "That's seriously all we're getting? It was fine? I hope it was seeing how you got pregnant from it. Anyway, Em, how are you feeling about it all? Are you excited?"

Emily yawned and rubbed her tired eyes. "I am mostly, but it's complicated."

"You've wanted this for a long time," JJ ventured with a smile. "You were willing to take home that teenager, Carrie, almost six years ago."

"I know," Emily sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've been interested by the idea for a while. Maybe I have since you told me I should do it way back when, but it was always just an idea. Carrie was already teenager. I thought she would barely need me. She would go off to college."

Garcia giggled at the comment. "It doesn't work that way."

"It doesn't!" Emily agreed with a chuckle. "Hotch was right. It's a huge commitment, which I've now made. I always thought if I had a baby I would do it on my own terms or adopt. It would just be me and the child. I didn't expect to do it with a guy I barely know. The whole thing is just weird. He's coming to my OB appointment. He's going to know my medical history, age,…vaginal details," Emily dropped her voice.

"Oh, honey, he already knows all about _that_," Garcia snickered and earned a high-five from JJ.

"The whole thing is just so strange for me. I never bring people to doctor's appointments. I banned my mother when I was thirteen, but it's not strange because he's the father and obviously wants to know what's going on."

"Soooo...He took it okay then?" Garcia asked before she nibbled on her piece of plain cheese pizza.

"Yeah, he was fine. He was probably less shocked than I was when I first found out," Emily laughed and licked her bottom lip a little nervously. "I gave him an 'out.' He didn't take it—"

"—Good guy."

Emily chose to ignore JJ's comment. "We're not together, though. That's not happening. I'm not looking for a boyfriend. We're just coparents."

"Right," JJ said with a slight roll of her eyes. "You're not interested in trying at all then?"

"No."

"Em," JJ began with a pat to Emily's knee. "I had a baby. I have Henry. It is _hard. _It is hard with two people. There are times when I just sit in my car outside our house not wanting to go in because I know I'll be bombarded with throw-up and snack packs and sticky fingers. It's the greatest thing in the world, but it is hard and would be so much harder without Will! Even worse, it would be harder with Will if we weren't together because in the midst of the chaos you have to plan visitation and hand offs, and with our schedule? Just look at how it worked out for Hotch and Haley before. I think in a weird way you're right. It would be easier to be a single mom versus having to coparent with someone you're not with. At least you can make decisions unilaterally."

"Gumdrop loves that," Garcia absentmindedly let out before she cringed under Emily's fake-glare. Emily knew it was true.

"And in your case, he wants to be involved so that's not really an option."

"What are you saying, Jaje?" Emily asked before she checked the pizza's smell and bit into it. "I have to date Mick Rawson now?"

"Would that be so crazy?"

"Yes."

Both blondes couldn't help but let out hearty laughs at Emily's deadpan answer. "I'm with blondie," Garcia said with a thumb point over towards JJ. "I think you should at least try to get to know him better. Isn't there baby stuff you have to talk about anyway? Either way you're stuck with him for life. What if you like him? Before you start, it's possible you won't, but maybe you will. It would make things easier for you and little cupcake in there."

"When we…"

"—Bangers and mashed all over each other," Garcia finished for Emily.

"When we did _that _it was fine. It worked—"

"—Yeah it did," JJ heckled a little.

"But these past couple of days have been so awkward."

"Emily, you're pregnant. Unless you're together and actively trying it's always awkward to tell the guy you're pregnant. It was awkward for me and Will. I told him, and he proposed to me on the phone. Then, I said 'no.' Then, he proposed again at the airport. I had to tell him 'no' again! Then, the next week he showed up at my job and basically told everyone I was pregnant and couldn't do my job anymore. I think I have you beat on the whole 'awkward pregnancy' thing." The group of women couldn't help but laugh at the reminders. Will had gotten better over the past few years, but right after JJ had gotten pregnant he had gone a little crazy. "Em, be honest. Have the talks been that awkward? Or have you just built up in your head that they've been awkward?" JJ perceptively asked. Emily really hated that the younger woman was a profiler now.

"We've never talked about anything before."

"You talked a little on the case. I remember the flirting," JJ reminded.

"You're right. We talked collectively for an hour, two years ago."

"I'm just saying..."JJ drifted off before she let out a chuckle. "You seemed at least a tiny bit interested in him back then."

"Interested like a researcher trying to study a virus."

Garcia scoffed at the comparison. "The virus got her pregnant."

"How common is that, Em?"

Emily cleared her throat at the question from JJ. "I'd have to look that up. Anyway, I'm sorry. I know you guys have a certain idea of how things are going to go, but they're just not going to be that way."

Garcia raised her hands, frustrated at the brunette's stubbornness. "You two just have so much in common!"

"Like what?" Emily asked expectantly from Garcia. To be honest, Garcia was probably the one who had known Mick the best. She knew Mick better than Emily had.

On the other hand, Garcia did know Mick, but she didn't know-know Mick. She knew a few of his qualities because she worked with him. She knew he had a bit of a past. Most of all, she had known he had asked about Emily for months after that case in San Francisco. He had wondered aloud, on multiple occasions, to the technical analyst why the brunette hadn't called him. It had become a running gag between the two. That mattered in Garcia's eyes, but his persistence to date Emily wouldn't really help her in this 'what do we have in common' instance. "You're both FBI Agents," Garcia weakly started and looked over to JJ for help as the room erupted with laughter. "Whatever! Trust me on this, Gumdrop."

"He's a sleaze."

"Emily, he is not!" Garcia argued back passionately. "Since, we're talking babies…" Garcia drifted off and focused her eyes on Emily. "A girl this time. I already have a godson. Cook that up, please."

"A girl, Em, we mean it," JJ added to Emily with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Yeah, I'll get on that," Emily sarcastically remarked before the other two women broke into giggles and the three went on in their night, hearing about JJ's boring honeymoon. Both Emily and Garcia had expected the stories to be a little more exciting the way the blonde had built them up that day before in the office.

* * *

It was 7:15 in the morning when Mick started knocking on Emily's door. It was early, way too early, but it was the best time for the appointment. Emily had wanted to wait to tell the team at 11 weeks, and the best way to ensure that would be to make sure all appointments were before work started. An 8:00am appointment would give her enough time to get through the appointment, and make it to work a little early. Being able to see Mick Rawson a little worse for wear when she opened the door was just a bonus.

"You look tired."

"You look pale," Mick shot back in their trademark banter-y way. However, he felt bad about the little dig, as well as a lot more sympathetic, when she immediately rushed off to throw up again. He had been a little too accurate. He had found himself grateful for being given the chance to look after his little sister as a child, because the sight of throwing up didn't bother him as much by that point. At least Emily had done it in the toilet instead of on his shoes. He walked into the bathroom and handed her a glass of water before he squatted down to help her brush back her hair. "Apologies, love, can you take a ride in the car?"

"Teleport me, please," She had asked in a pathetically weak voice. She wasn't sure what she hated more: feeling so sick or feeling so sick in front of Mick Rawson.

"Sorry," Was all he could offer.

It was around fifteen minutes later when the two were finally able to leave Emily's apartment. The car ride over was mostly silent. Emily was focusing on a point to help steady her stomach, it had barely helped, and Mick was consumed with being exceptionally careful with his driving. He was typically a motorcycle kind of guy, so it made him a little unnerved to drive Emily's car. He had never felt completely comfortable driving on the 'wrong side of the road.' He didn't want to make a mistake and have her throw up all over herself, or, worse, have them get into an accident.

They had arrived a little late, but the doctor was running late so it didn't matter. Mick wasn't sure if the office did just woman-doctor'ing or fertility too, so he opted to play around on his phone instead of touching the waiting room magazines. It was stupid and he would never admit it to Emily, but he didn't want to take a chance. There were some real weirdos out there. Maybe some people got off on _National Geographic_. He looked up from his emails to see Emily biting her nails and shifting around in her chair. "Emily?"

"Yeah."

He studied her again. She had been folding her body into itself. He had felt bad. Maybe the woman was _that_ nervous about the whole ordeal. It was a strange sight, to see Emily Prentiss like that. "You doing all right there?"

"I have to pee," She confessed quietly and he immediately let out the concerned breath he had been holding in.

"Go to the toilet."

"Don't you think I would if I could?" She snapped with a roll of her eyes before feeling bad about how harsh, and loud, her voice had been. "I'm not supposed to until after. I'm sorry."

"Apology not accepted," Mick grinned before he stole the old _Time Magazine_ from under Emily's arm. "I want one of those photos that bloke got," Mick said and nodded over towards another father leaving an appointment with his partner, sonogram in hand.

"Really?"

"It is my parental right," He winked. "I through you'd cry more," He added absentmindedly.

"What? Why would you think that?"

"Pregnant women are always crying in films," He shrugged.

Emily just shook her head in disbelief. The man was clueless. Although, to be fair to him, she had to admit the pregnancy had made her a little more emotional and moody. She was definitely hormonal. She was just mostly hormonal in private.

They spent the remaining ten minutes in silence.

Emily wasn't quite sure why she was surprised when Mick had gotten up with her after her name had been called. It wasn't as if she had expected him to go with her and then wait in the waiting room, but maybe part of her did expect that. Instead, she found herself a little self-conscious when her shirt was pulled up and the scar he had always been so careful to avoid was exposed. Considering he knew about her 'death,' Emily thought Mick probably knew when the raised patch of skin had made its way on to her body. He didn't have the 'how' or the 'why' though.

The doctor pointed out different shadows on the monitor, but neither Emily nor Mick could make out what they were supposed to be. When the doctor had been taking measurements to confirm the fetus had looked about ten weeks old, Mick had given Emily a perplexed look. It was as if he had been asking her if she knew what was going on. All she could do was shrug in response. She didn't see a 'baby' there either.

"It all looks good in there then, doc?" He asked and leaned forward to stare more at the picture of Emily's uterus. Maybe if you had put it that way to him it would have sounded strange, but it didn't feel weird or invasive.

"It looks great, dad," The woman responded and handed Emily a paper towel to clean herself off. "Okay, Emily, let's go ahead and let you go to the bathroom, and then you can both meet me in my office to go over some specifics." The redhead instructed before she walked off.

"Okay, well," Emily started before she got off the table. She wanted to tell Mick he could wait for her in the waiting room, but the thought of excluding him like that made her feel bad. Instead, she just wordlessly made her way to the bathroom, with Mick waiting around outside for her.

The two had found themselves in Doctor Hoyt's office. It had been Emily's first time with that particular doctor, who had been referred to her by her primary care physician. There was a wall of degrees and certificates on the wall. One of them read 'Weil Cornell Medical School.' It wasn't Harvard, but it wasn't a bad place to graduate from. Mick watched as Emily studied and internally critiqued the various degrees, and for some reason he spoke up. He wasn't sure if he felt a little inadequate, or if he just wanted to share because so much of Emily was being exposed.

"I didn't go to one of those."

"You didn't go to college?"

"I went to the uni of life."

"You didn't need it," Emily waved him off. She wasn't an elitist. For all his faults, and he had plenty as far as she was concerned, Mick Rawson was good at what he did. Yeah, it was odd how he was able to get into the FBI with no degree, but exceptions had been made to let in Reid and Garcia. Emily guessed that Mick Rawson was just one of those exceptions himself. Her thoughts had been interrupted by Dr. Hoyt rushing into the office.

"Sorry for that delay. I don't know what it is about summer, so many babies. Let's go over your chart and any questions," Dr. Hoyt said before she pulled up her computer screen and started to type. "Okay aged 41. Serious abdominal injury a year back, but no complications. Is this your first child?"

"Yes."

"Thought so," The doctor stated and grabbed her red reading glasses. "Any previous pregnancies?"

"Um," Emily fake cleared her throat and looked over to Mick. "I had an abortion at fifteen. In Italy," She wasn't sure why she had added the last part.

"They did a good job," Dr. Hoyt responded absentmindedly and kept staring at the screen. "No reason why that should impact anything. Normally, I tell patients not to worry if they've had abortions. It's extremely rare that it impacts anything about carrying a future child to term. That being said, if you had it a couple decades back in a foreign country you might, understandably, worry a little. But considering everything you look great. Had a couple of lucky escapes there, Mrs. Prentiss. Is everything else you filled out correct?"

"It is."

"Based on your last missed period, etc., we're putting your due date at January 3rd. A new year followed by a new baby. Now is time for any questions for me," Dr. Hoyt offered before she turned back towards the two and leaned forward on her desk. "Any cramping, discharge, constipation you want to talk about?"

"Is there, darling?" Mick asked with the most vomit-inducing grin Emily had ever seen.

"No," Emily grumbled.

"Breast tenderness?"

"A little," She admitted and picked at her fingernails, careful to avoid the very interested expression she was sure was on Mick Rawson's face.

"That's very normal. Should go away after first trimester," Dr. Hoyt assured. "You put in your paperwork about morning sickness. Just keep an eye on that and if it's serious we'll have to admit you. Just to make sure you're not dehydrated or in any danger. Got that Mr. Prentiss?"

"Oh, I got that," Mick winked over at Emily, who immediately felt the need to speak up.

"We're not married! This is Mick _Rawson. _He's not— He's not a Prentiss."

"Sorry, my mistake."

"I'm hyphenating to Rawson-Prentiss," Mick joked, which made Emily roll her eyes. Could he take nothing seriously?

The rest of the appointment was filled with talk about tests and appointments. Mick was shocked by the sheer number of them. He had kind of expected, as stupid as it was, that there would be this one appointment and maybe one in six months and then the baby would come. But he was in it, right? He had told her he was going to be there for her. So he just took out his calendar and typed along to each word Dr. Hoyt had said. It had all went back to what Mick had felt before. Kids weren't something he had given much thought to, but there were worse people out there to get stuck doing it with than Emily Prentiss.

The had appointment ended with Emily being given a handout of all her banned foods and a copy of the sonogram. Both documents had also been emailed to her, so she handed over the sonogram to Mick. After witnessing the interaction, Dr. Hoyt's tech had made them wait and rushed back to print them off an extra copy so Emily had one too.

"It looks just like ya, love," Mick teased and waved the sonogram in the air.

"You're so annoying," Emily rolled her eyes, and tried to hide a small smile.

* * *

**As usual, thanks for reading and reviewing. **


	6. What's Your Deal?

Emily had been surprised to learn that Mick had taken a car over to her apartment that morning, and needed to be taken back to his apartment to pick up his motorcycle. The man was such a cliche. He had also insisted that Emily have breakfast at his apartment, having seen her throw up everything a few hours before. So the two stopped at a store to pick up some oatmeal before they made it Mick Rawson's apartment. Oatmeal was about the only thing Emily could eat without having a problem, and it was the perfect meal given their circumstances. It said the perfect thing about this situation they had found themselves in. Oatmeal wasn't sexy or fun. It was just a necessity. That was how Emily saw her arrangement with Mick. It wasn't meant to be anything other than functional. It was meant to serve a purpose, only.

Mick Rawson's apartment was in Virginia. Geographically, it made sense as a stop over. It was closer to the BAU than Emily's place anyway. He lived on the second floor of the complex. His apartment was clean. It wasn't decorated. The palate was a mix of grays and beige. There was a single chair by the sofa, a glass coffee table, and a TV on a dark wood media center in the middle of the room. There weren't any books or many personal effects. There were no photos. It was very obviously a bachelor pad. Emily wondered how many women had passed through that apartment as she took a seat at the wooden barstools under Mick's counter. She swore it was the hormones that had made her feel the smallest spec of jealousy.

"You didn't ask," Emily commented as she watched Mick try to fix the instant oatmeal. He was concentrating on measuring the right amount of water to add without the aid of measuring cups, which he didn't have.

"About?"

"About Italy," She clarified, and bit and licked her bottom lip nervously.

"Don't do that." He had said it in a serious voice, but it was his smirk that let on that he was playing with her. "I can't concentrate when you lick your lip. It's too distracting…" He trailed off before he threw the bowl into the microwave and looked up to focus on Emily. "It isn't any of my bloody business."

"It's not," She nodded in agreement. "I want to put it out there, not that I owe an explanation, but I don't regret it. I don't feel guilty. I can't be made to feel guilty about it."

"Why would I guilt you over it?" Mick asked thoroughly perplexed. "I don't care. Teenagers have sex. They get pregnant. It happens. Little buggars are hormonal, cunning little bastards, I should know."

It was the cavalier way he had put it that put Emily so at ease. She was so used to having to preface her decisions, and explain them, even to the people she felt closest to. It felt nice to have someone just say: 'You made the best decisions for you. I trust you,' and leave it at that. "I'm going to have to call my mother," Emily grumbled as Mick took the bowl out of the microwave. She couldn't help but let out of a small laugh when he jumped up after burning his finger on the hot bowl.

"Piss off," He reprimanded with a playful glint in his eyes. "Will she want to meet me?"

"God, I hope not."

"Why not?"

Emily chose to eat the oatmeal the man had prepared for her instead of answer. It was watery, but it wasn't terrible. It wasn't great, but it could have been worse. "She's posted in Japan anyway. Thank god, she was miserable when she was stuck stateside without a job. She's not really the 'retirement' type," Emily laughed, trying to picture her mother in an Adirondack chair sitting by a lake.

"And your dad? I have to meet him too?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Dead. Stepfather lives in Switzerland. Who knows how those two have stayed married," Emily shrugged.

"Right, sorry."

"It's fine," She simply offered and observed him start eating dry Lucky Charms out of the box. "What about you? Any family members you have to tell you'll be— About this?" Saying "a dad" was just still too weird for her to say. Mick Rawson was going to be a dad. Mick Rawson was going to be a dad to her baby. Mick Rawson. Mick Rawson was the father of her child. No matter how many times she said it, it still sounded impossible.

"My sister, Jenna, will be interested. She'll probably consider it a bit of a cock-up," He laughed, "She'll be excited. Probably will want to make sure you aren't mistreating me."

"Okay."

"You'll have no problem lying then?"

"Shut up."

"Adding this to the tally."

"So, Jenna Rawson…She's it?" Emily questioned in a softer tone than she normally used with the man. It seemed like he had less family than even she did.

"Mum and dad died when I was a little lad. Was raised mostly by my nain. She died when I was sixteen," He revealed a little quieter, a little more self-conscious than he normally was.

She gave him a small, sad smile, "I'm sorry."

"Gave me an interesting story. Wasn't all that bad," He offered and ran his hands through his hair before moving his arms back on the counter to support himself.

"I'm going to have to tell my team, too. You don't have to, for obvious reasons, but, do you tell yours?" Emily thought it was a stupid question as soon as she had asked it. It wasn't like Mick had to be pulled out of the field, or would be showing. His personal life could stay personal. Emily couldn't help but find it a little unfair. They both had the same amount of influence in her getting pregnant, but she was the one whose life had been thrown into chaos. Mick could just go about his life and then expect a baby at the end. A baby which he said he wanted, but she had offered to let him walk away from. If he wanted he could just walk away. She wished she could live her normal life and have someone drop off this baby to her one morning.

"No," He responded simply, "We're not that close anymore. A bit like rats on a sinking ship. All of us scurried off in differentiations directions. I've got the lone counterterrorism post. I could tell Sam, but when he's out of the office, the man is out of the office."

"So, you never, you know, with Gina?"

He thought about making fun of her for wondering if he had ever hooked up with his coworker, but he decided to leave it alone. For a second that was, "Admit it. You like me."

Emily scoffed at the statement, "I'd rather drink bleach."

"Well, wait for nine months at least. On the subject, why didn't you call me back?"

"On the subject? That's like the opposite of being on the subject. Anyway, I wasn't interested."

"Fine, we will go with that," He shrugged with an irritatingly smug smile. "Why the bloody hell have you not been taken yet? Why was there a number to call on?"

"I had stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff," Emily sighed and scraped her spoon against the bottom of the white bowl. "Stuff to take care of."

"And you've taken care of it now?"

"More or less."

Mick leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter and studied the woman in front of him. He could tell there was something she had been holding back. "Which is it, then? More or less?"

It was a fair question. It was one she had asked herself over the past year. How much better was she? Because she had felt a little stuck for a while. Physically she was fine, but that was the thing about Ian Doyle. For him, it was all about the psychological torture. Physically, compared to Paris she was perfectly healthy. But psychologically? While the terror and worry of him coming after her had left her in the daylight, it still was there in the night. "It's done," She finally answered, "Everything I needed to do is wrapped up. I just need the bow."

"The bow is the hardest part."

"You know what?" Emily stated in a voice that sounded a little excited someone understood what she meant. "It really is...And what's your deal?"

"I don't have a 'deal.'"

Emily left the oatmeal spoon in her mouth and raised an eyebrow at the man. "You haven't settled down yet, either. Why?"

"Have yet to go arse-over-tit for a woman. That could change though," He answered with a wink and click of the tongue. "And as for Gina, I don't shit where I eat, love" He laughed before he noticed all the oatmeal he had made her had been eaten. "Not that bad of a cook am I now?"

Emily moved her tongue around her mouth and pretended to analyze the meal. "You're better than me, but that's not saying much."

"You better learn or else the lad is going to starve."

"Why don't you cook for it then, Michelin Star?"

"I can't do all the work," He distractedly said.

"What work have you done?" She quickly noticed the way his expression changed, and cut him off before he was able to say it. "Don't answer that."

"What do you want?"

Emily was confused about what he was exactly asking her. It was a fairly broad question. "What?"

"Gender? Boy or girl?"

"Oh, I don't know, whatever," Emily answered with a shrug. She hadn't given it much thought, but a small part of her thought a tiny version of her might be easier to control than a mini-Mick Rawson.

The two departed after another awkward hug. Emily thought about trying to do a handshake instead, but it felt even weirder than the hug. A handshake would feel like some sort of tawdry underground baby deal. On the drive over to the BAU, Mick not far behind on his motorcycle, Emily thought that maybe JJ and Garcia were partially right. She wasn't ever going to date Mick Rawson. She would never date Mick Rawson, but it would help to get to know him a little better. The truth was that she had sat with this baby news for about two weeks. It hadn't really felt real. But at some point it would feel real. At some point she would hold it and then, eventually, have to hand it over to spend time with its father. And the 'father' in question was Mick Rawson. That part was inevitable. She had, by default, picked this man to have a child with. By this point it was an unavoidable fact.

How would she be able to hand her child over to a man she knew nothing about? Emily was sure her protective instincts would kick it. It wasn't like having a baby with Morgan, or Reid, or even Hotch. She knew them. She knew they were good guys. She knew pieces of their pasts and their general families. If she had been stupid enough to sleep with Morgan, and had gotten pregnant, she wouldn't feel distressed about handing over the kid to him. She knew him. She knew his mother, and sisters, and that Morgan could probably take care of it. But she knew nothing about Mick Rawson, the man she would actually have to hand her baby over to.

However, that raised another interesting question for Emily. One that she, once again, had no answer to. If she had ended up having a baby with the any of the men in her unit, which kinda creeped her out to think about but just for argument's sake, she was pretty sure that all of them would want to have their child around. Reid would insist on having his child over for sleepovers. Morgan would insist on taking his son or daughter to Christmas with his family in Chicago. Hotch would order her to bring over the baby to spend time with him and Jack. But Mick? Was Mick just going to hang around until the baby came? Would he have any idea what to do when it actually got there? Six months more months seemed liked an eternity to be stuck vomiting and rushing off to the bathroom all the time, but it wasn't really _that_ long of a period of time. Emily wasn't sure what he would decide in those six months, and because she knew nothing about the man, she couldn't get a good read or prediction on him, either.

* * *

**I have hit a bit of a roadblock with the case aspect of this story. The pacing might be a little slow, so I might have to do double chapters updates to make sure it moves fast enough. **

**But, updates won't be affected because I have most of the first part of this story written ****anyway. **


	7. I'm Not Looking for a Boyfriend

Emily had thought about it endlessly over the past few days, about getting to know Mick Rawson. It was a painful necessity. Plus, she was going to have to tell her mother eventually. It would be easier to at least bump up Mick Rawson from 'one-time coworker' to 'acquaintance.' _Good evening, Mother, just wanted to let you know my acquaintance, Mick Rawson, got me pregnant. _It was bad, but—No, it was bad.

Emily sat at her kitchen table and nervously chewed on her bottom lip before she officially decided to pick up the phone.

"Fucking hell," She heard him grumble on the other end. Mick had been eating leftover chicken wings over his kitchen sink, and his dirty fingers had streaked his phone screen. "Hello, love. Thinking of me again are ya?" He finally greeted after a few seconds of cleaning up.

He was always so obnoxiously flirty and cheery with her. She could've sworn he overemphasized his 'Ellos' too. "Do you want to come over—"

"—I thought you'd never ask—"

"—To talk," Emily was quick to finish. She swore she could almost hear his face drop at the realization of what she had just said. "It's ridiculous, but if we're going to do this thing we have to get to know each other better."

"I knew it. I knew you would scramble to get to know me given the chance," He shot back confidently.

"I'm kind of forced to now aren't I?"

"I'm very charming."

"Sure," Emily replied sarcastically with an eye roll.

"Devilishly handsome."

"Whatever."

"Ravished you in bed."

She hadn't even bothered to respond to that claim, and opted to just scoff at the assessment instead.

"I'm Welsh."

"I'll give you that one."

"It was only a matter of time, darling."

"That what?"

"That I'd grow on you," He said with a flirty, teasing voice.

Emily let out a cackle at his overconfidence. "Maybe like a mole I desperately need burned off."

"I don't believe that," He laughed. "You know I have a very dangerous job—"

"—You never leave the office anymore."

"I lead a very dangerous life," Mick continued on, pretending Emily hadn't just interrupted him. "Bloody hell, it's dangerous. And how would you feel if you didn't get a chance to date me?"

"Oh, I'd somehow find a way to go on," Emily answered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"You're a—"

"—Cruel woman," Emily interjected with a grin. "Do you want to come over and talk or not? This offer expires in ten seconds."

"I'll cancel my other date," He taunted before he hung up on her, grabbed his leather jacket and headed over to her apartment.

* * *

He had gotten to her apartment in around fifteen minutes. She had allowed him to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, but she was quick to inform him that was the only action he was getting from her, well, ever. He, of course, said he didn't believe that. And after a few moments of quick bantering back and forth, she led him into her living room. Once again, she was quick to point out that this was as far into her house that he was ever getting into again.

"What is it you're trying to learn about me?" Mick had asked while Emily stared at him intently. They were both sitting on either side of her sofa, their bodies turned to look at each other. She bit her bottom lip deep in thought, earning a flirtatious gaze from Mick. "I told you not to do that. I'll snog that nose."

"You wouldn't dare," Emily challenged and finally leaned back into the sofa's narrow and not-quite-comfortable armrest. "Um, I don't know. I don't really know how to do this."

"Date?" Mick asked with a tinge of smugness. "Fine, I will start and you can finish. I always let you finish." Emily responded by plastering on a fake, mocking smile. "My name is Michael Frank Rawson. What's your middle name?"

"Shaw."

"Shaw?"

"Shaw."

"How lovely," He stated dryly, letting on he was being sarcastic.

"It's not any worse than Frank."

"My favorite football club is Swansea City. I've always gone for the heartbreakers."

A small yawn escaped from Emily. "This isn't convincing."

"Oh, come on now, this is my real life!" Mick laughed.

Emily crossed her arms and tilted her head at the man. "How'd you get into the British Special Forces?"

"I'm still waiting to hear back."

"I'll be sure to write you a glowing reference."

"Well, then, that's it. I'll never hear back," He teased. "This is bloody painful."

"It is," Emily groaned. "It's just a completely unnatural way to get to know someone. Post-pregnancy…" _At the behest of interfering friends_, Emily finished internally. "I know I won't want to give over my baby to someone I barely know."

"Well, the lad is mine too," Mick pointed out before a smirk appeared on his face. "Maybe I don't want to give it up to you. Can _you_ be trusted?"

It was a question asked in jest, but it made Emily feel strangely emotional. It had been there, bubbling under the surface. How could it not have been? She had been through a lot. Her time in Paris was occupied by essentially hiding, but she hadn't really thought of her feelings regarding the Doyle situation. She never had. She had completed the assignment and tried to walk away. She had saved Declan, and tried to stay close, but it was too hard. She didn't ever love Ian Doyle. She had essentially prostituted herself to a man with no morals. She had watched him commit unspeakable acts and then kissed him at night before bed. And then, one day, it just ended. It all just ended and she went back to her version of "a normal life." She had pushed it all up inside, boxed away everyone emotion.

It was like a shard of glass in a foot. Sometimes, often in the most brutal of cases, it would start to push its way out. It would make her wonder how different she really was from those criminals she was hunting. How different was she from the criminal she had put away? She had been part of some of his crimes. She had brought him weapons, and been his accomplice for two years. But then she would force herself to walk on it, the glass. Push it back inside, until the next inopportune time for it to work its way out. That next time was apparently pregnant, hormonal, and, perhaps worst of all, in front of Mick Rawson.

"I'm going to be sick," Was all Emily got out before she had run off to the bathroom.

"I'll be glad when this part is over," Mick remarked more to himself than Emily and followed behind. He watched as she heaved, but nothing came out. She didn't really look much like Emily Prentiss in that moment. And, still, she looked strangely beautiful. She always somehow looked graceful, lithe. Mick sat on the floor behind Emily, giving her a chance to lean back and be supported by his body. "Still look ravishing there, love. Quite chunder chic if I say so myself," He quipped.

Emily didn't speak about what had just upset her, naturally. Instead she just leaned back against Mick's body, and slightly groaned as if the very thought disgusted her. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend."

"I am," Mick quipped in a lighthearted voice. "I'm looking for a handsome chap—"

Emily's laughter had interrupted the man. "You're so…annoying."

"Absolutely disagree, if anything I'm the chap I'm looking for. Well read, well hung—"

"—I'm going to be sick again," Emily shot back with a grin. "We were supposed to get to know each other, and instead end up on my bathroom floor."

"We've lost the plot," Mick deadpanned before he got off the floor and offered Emily a hand to help her up. "You have to tell me something. Otherwise this night has been a bloody waste."

"You didn't tell me anything either," Emily remarked as they walked back to her sofa.

"I told you my name and favorite football club," Mick argued back in a fake shocked voice, as if his favorite football club was very coveted information. "Fine, my favorite color is blue and I was in the British Special Forces."

"I knew it."

"That I fancy the color blue?" Mick's cocky facade dropped under her stare for just a second. "I was recruited young. I'm not an Ambassador's daughter."

"Who told you?"

"Penelope Garcia," Mick answered with a laugh. "Who else, love?"

"I can't believe she's been going to you behind my back."

"Two years ago, bothered her endlessly."

"Yeah, I can believe that," Emily teased and looked up from her gray sofa to grin at the man. "What else did she tell you?"

"You like chocolate."

"Lie, I _love _chocolate."

Mick winked at the woman and added, "You hate gel pens, not being in control, and house plants. And that I couldn't make fun of you for being an absolute nerd of a woman…" He drifted off as his cocky smile dropped a bit. "I'm not a posh boy. Son of a laborer, I didn't have many options. Dad only left behind a couple hundred quid. My nain had died, seemed as good a job as any. Found I was good at it. Made a couple mates along the way. Lost a few, too."

Emily softened her expression at the man. "You go to Iraq? Fallujah maybe?"

Mick just shook his head at the question. "You have your secrets, and I have mine."

"Fair enough."

Mick scratched at his jaw and tried to think of a personal, non-work-releated question. He'd already given Emily a lot more than she'd ever given him, but he didn't think he was getting anything out of her on her professional past. "What happened with your dad?"

Emily pinched the bridge her nose and inhaled sharply at the question. "My parents divorced when I was young. My mother was too ambitious for him. He just— Well, some guys aren't great with strong women…"

"He was a bit of a wanker then?"

Emily chuckled at the question. "Yeah, yeah, I guess her was. Maybe that's why I've—" She didn't finish the thought. "Anyway, I pretty much lost regular contact with him when I was six. He died eight years later from an aneurysm."

"Sorry, Emily," Mick offered weakly, shuffling his boots on the wood floor.

"Yours?"

"My parents were killed in a drink driving accident."

Emily just nodded along and thought back to that first night, when he had wanted to confirm she wasn't driving home drunk. "I'm sorry. That's so sel—"

"—My dad was the drink driver," Mick sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

Emily leaned forward to offer the man a hug. His head was buried in the crook of her neck when she said it. "I'm scared of opening champagne bottles."

"Must be tough," Mick chuckled with a smile. "Thanks for sharing something of such personal value."

"It was really hard to put it out there," Emily said in a serious voice as the two pulled back from their hug with matching smiles. "Now get out."

"You're an ungodly woman," He playfully rebuked with the shake of his head. "You invite me over at night, with the promise of snogging—"

"—Mick Rawson, I did not!

"Could've sworn I heard you say that," He said as he held his chin in his hand, pretending to contemplate the issue. "He said. She said. We'll never know the truth. _But _you invite me over, looking bloody gorgeous mind you, host me for ten minutes, half of it in the toilet, and then you throw me out?"

"Sounds about right," Emily replied with a lopsided grin. "What do you really want? I mean you don't want to stay here."

"I don't?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because, it's weird."

"How?"

She rolled her eyes at the question. "It's weird to have someone stay over who you're not with."

"You said that, darling, not me."

Emily chewed the inside of her cheek. "This isn't what you want."

"Said who?"

"You're not that kind of guy."

"What kind of guy is that?" He asked as he leaned back on the sofa. "Go on then."

Emily scoffed at the question, "Um, the kind of guy who does this? The kind of guy who does relationships and kids. You've said it yourself."

"I've never told you that."

"You've never had to." Emily sighed, "I can read it all over you. The motorcycle, and the vacant apartment, and the flirting at bars, and the flirting on cases— I really doubt I was the only one. This isn't what you had in mind when you came home with me. You just wanted to sleep with me—"

"—Don't profile me, Emily," Mick warned and rubbed from his eyes to chin roughly. There was a certain sadness in the man's eyes. She had a certain degree of sympathy for him, but she also didn't think it was a good idea.

"Mick, you've never done this before. Neither have I. I just don't want things to get messy. I know—" She raised a hand to stop any of his protests, "—I know. It's already messy, and I don't want it to get any messier. In an ideal world we would be best friends and raise the baby together and agree on the big stuff. You said you want to be there, and at first I was conflicted about that. But for the sake of the baby, it's for the best. I want you to stay around."

" And I am."

"I know, but..." Emily ran her hands through her hair frustration. He didn't seem to get what she was trying to say. "I want things to be stable between us. I don't want our kid to grow up in one situation, and then in three years we get sick of each other and they're thrown into chaos. Or for our relationship to get so bad that there's bitterness and it bleeds over into our relationships with them. Don't you get that? I want us to be good and stay good. I want to get to know you better. I want to talk about how to do this, but beyond that I don't think it's a good idea. We have to think for the longterm. This isn't a fling."

Mick pretended to think about the idea and then flashed a grin. "There's a lot going on in there," He remarked and pointed at Emily's head.

"Yeah, it's called thinking. You should it try it sometime."

"I'm going to figure you out one of these days, Agent Prentiss," Mick added as he jumped off the sofa and straightened out his leather jacket. "I'll be patiently waiting for the phase of pregnancy where it turns the woman into a bit of a slag."

"You're a slag all the time. What's your excuse?" Emily shot back with a hint of a smile. "Go home."

"You know," Mick started after he had made his way into Emily's apartment building's hallway, "We've yet to have a proper 'goodbye' end of night kiss."

"Yeah, you're right," Emily said as she looked up to the ceiling to seemingly contemplate the idea. "What a shame," She said right before she closed the door in his face.

"You're a cruel woman, Emily Prentiss!"

"That's what they tell me!" She called back over her door, before she laughed and walked to her bedroom.

* * *

**The talk with the team is happening next chapter. **

**Right now I'm still setting everything up, but the story will start to move a little faster soon. Just want to have everything set up (and making sense) by the time of a time jump.**

**Will these two work it out and end up together or just be friends with a baby? Who knows!**


	8. So You Do Answer Your Mobile

"Hiya, sweetness," Garcia greeted as Emily walked into her office.

"I called you last night and you didn't answer," JJ added from the extra chair beside Garcia behind the computer screens. Garcia was stuck supervising a search for Hotch and, therefore, was stuck having lunch in her office. Of course, she had made Emily and JJ join her as well.

"Mick Rawson came over," Emily absentmindedly answered as she opened her plastic salad container.

"And what did you two do last night?" Garcia asked and turned to JJ to flash an excited smile. They thought this was going to be good…It wasn't.

"Yeah, Em, do tell us?"

"We talked," Emily answered, still not looking up from her salad. "It's not a big deal. We're just trying to get to know each other."

"Doing it a bit backwards there, Em," JJ laughed and poked Emily in the arm with her fork. "So what did you find out? Anything interesting?"

"Not really."

"I don't believe that," Garcia interjected with a grin. "I know Agent Rawson better than both you girlies, except for Emster in one specific place, wink, wink, and he is a _very _interesting man."

"I'm trying with him," Emily looked up and narrowed her eyes at the other two women. "And by that I mean trying to get to know him. I gave some thought to what you said, and I should know him better since I'm raising a child with him. But beyond that? I don't think we should screw it all up. Things have been surprisingly okay between us."

"Because you get along, Em. It's called compatibility," JJ remarked in an amused voice. Emily Prentiss was one of the most brilliant people she knew, but when it came to dating? Saying Emily had no personal life and dating skills was being kind. "You're going to do what you're going to do, but make sure it's what you want because he's not going to be waiting around forever."

Emily found herself saved by the bell, because as soon as JJ had said it, Garcia's phone had rung. They had been called up. There was a case. Emily excused herself to grab her go-bag out of her trunk, leaving the two blondes to gossip about the latest sparse pieces of Mick Rawson-related information.

"Those two doofuses need to get it together."

"It's Emily," JJ replied flatly. The simple statement just made Garcia laugh. "I would ask Morgan to talk to her, but he won't get anywhere anyway."

Garcia let out a snort at the idea. "She's just being so….Emily." Another laugh from the two women interrupted the train of thought. "He is literally the father of her child. We are almost at 'last man on earth' level with her and she still says she's not interested! I'm tired. When will the BAU finally have the power couple we need!" Garcia huffed as she typed on her computer, gathering information about the case to present to the team.

"What do you mean 'finally'? What about me and Will?"

"What about you and oh—" Garcia caught herself and cringed before she looked over to JJ, who had her arms crossed at the admission. Did the team not think Will and her were a law enforcement power couple? Will was a great police detective!

"Garcia?"

"Will is very cute, but he's not—"

"—Don't finish that thought."

"I love him!" Garcia defended. "He's my little squishy, but, trust me, Mick Rawson is Mick Rawson. He's a sniper."

As much as she hated to admit it, Garcia had JJ there. Truthfully, the blonde profiler knew what Garcia had meant, in her own quirky way. It was an odd predicament she and Garcia had found themselves in. On one hand, they both believed that people didn't necessarily _need _romantic partners to be happy. Then again, they also knew what life was like at the BAU. They were all hardly ordinary people. It was hard to see horrors everyday and then just go home, alone, like nothing had happened. Emily had been doing that for years. Sometimes JJ would feel a wave of emotion pass over her when she realized how much Emily must have seen. How much she must have suffered through, alone.

There was something about going home to someone. In JJ's case, her someone was a detective. He had seen some things, but Garcia was right, he hadn't seen it quite like the rest of the team had. He wasn't always the best with cases, but at least he was _there_. Even when he was being impossible, JJ had someone who was there for her. Someone who would leave a light on for her when she got home because she was too scared to walk into darkness. Emily never had that, and JJ wagered that Mick Rawson would understand that darkness better than most.

They loved and trusted Emily, and in most other circumstances they thought she had great judgement. But when it came to personal relationships? Emily was guarded. She had walls built up, probably since Doyle. Maybe even before then. God only knew what previous undercover assignments the brunette had had. The point was JJ thought that this accidental pregnancy was Emily's chance, much like she had with Henry. A chance for a life out of the BAU, if Emily would only let it happen. However, JJ didn't feel that she couldn't push Emily. She had to just give little pieces of advice along the way and hope Emily figured it out.

* * *

Emily had expected two weeks more time, which would have been perfect and brought it to twelve weeks. Fate only gave her one. The team was being shipped out to a case in Texas to meet up with Marshalls to find a missing prisoner. The assignment was pretty simple, figure out if the man who escaped was a serial killer known as the "The Silencer." Emily felt the case was probably going to be pretty focused on profiling, but they always found themselves in the field in one way or another, and the rest of the team would surely notice her not out there with them. Plus, it had been a while since Garcia had found out, and it had been a minor miracle that she hadn't spilled to Morgan yet. She was really tempting fate to trust Garcia to keep it quiet for another week.

Emily decided to tell the team when the assignments were being handed out by Hotch. That way it could be quick and fast, and there wouldn't be a lot of extra time for congratulations. She was still processing the news, herself. For some reason, Emily thought it important to let Mick know she was headed out of town. She didn't want him to call and worry. _Not that he would worry _she thought to herself as she closed the bathroom stall door and took out her phone. She wasn't sure why she thought closing the door would ensure privacy, but she would take what she could get.

"Hey."

"Hello Emily, phoning me on office time? How inappropriate," He teased, sounding a little tired.

"Yeah, whatever, listen I'm going out of town. It's a case. I'm heading to Texas. If you call me and I don't answer I'm busy. Don't think— not that you would think, or call,— but if you were to—"

"—I would call." He mercifully cut in to stop her rambles. "Your phone skills are shambolic, Prentiss."

Emily forced herself to scoff, but she knew he was right. "Shut up."

"I would have called and I would have worried. Thank you for letting little old me know. My first thought would have been that you made a mad dash, out the country, absconded with the baby Rawson."

"Sure," Emily shook her head.

"I'd have to beg and cry to Ms. Penelope Garcia to track you down."

"I'm sure you would," Emily chuckled. "I'd be the one having trouble tracking you down."

"Doubt that, love." He said fairly seriously and leaned back in his office chair. "You're going into the field, then?"

"No," She confirmed and bit her lip, debating whether or not she should clarify for him. She decided he did deserve to know. "I'm working, but I'm staying in. I'm done in the field until this whole thing is finished. And before you start, I don't need you to check on me or decide if I'm safe or 'okay' or whatever macho bullshit you want to pull."

"I have done nothing of the sort. I'm an innocent."

She broke into a smile at that and bantered back. "Not that innocent—"

"—Lucky for you. Or else there would be no 'baby' for me to be macho with." He knew she was rolling her eyes as soon as he said it. "You're telling the team then, eh?"

"Probably," She groaned and used the bathroom stall wall to hold up her tired body. She was _spent. _She didn't even care how unsanitary it was.

"Phone me when you land and leave so I know you're not in grave danger and in need of saving, again."

"I'm going now. Bye," She merely said before she hung up on the man. "So fucking arrogant," She remarked to herself with a grin of her own.

Hotch had given out assignments on the plane ride over, which was as perfect as it could get because it allowed for minimal hugging. She didn't want it to be a big deal. She hated being the center of attention and having eyes on her personal life. This five minutes was going to be both. Right after Hotch assigned her to stay at the precinct and coordinate, Emily cleared her throat. It was a simple sign Garcia immediately picked up and stayed on the video call. She didn't want to miss the moment.

Emily, meanwhile, felt like she was going to be sick again. She decided to just spit it out all at once. "I'm staying at the precinct for the foreseeable future because I'm having a baby." The look on Morgan's face made Emily feel the need to repeat it. "I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant?" Morgan half-asked, mostly-laughed, with a raised eyebrow. When Emily didn't laugh back he guessed it was real. "Wow…Well, damn, Princess, congrats!"

"Congratulations, Bella," Rossi, who was sitting across from her, stated with a smile and briefly held her hands.

"Thanks for sharing with us, Emily," Reid added with a wide grin, sitting beside Rossi.

"Yeah, of course," Emily let out a nervous breath and leaned back in the beige chair.

"Who is the lucky guy?" Morgan asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Emily sighed at the question. This was always going to be the worst part. "Mick Rawson."

"Ha!" Morgan guffawed and leaned over in his chair, practically sitting in hers. "The short guy from the San Francisco case a few years back?"

"He's 5'11, okay?!" Emily defended.

"Sorry, mama bear," Morgan snickered and raised his hands in surrender. "So I know baby girl knew—"

"—You know it, hot stuff. I've been getting info out of our little mama since 2006!"

"Who else knew?" Morgan asked

"I did," Hotch answered in his typical monotoned voice from the back of the plane.

"I did," JJ added with a small, apologetic smile to Morgan.

"I did," Reid spoke up too.

"Hold on a second here," Morgan jerked his body to better face Emily. "I get you telling baby girl and JJ because you three ladies are the three musketeers. And Hotch knows everything—"

"—Remember that always," Hotch reminded the group from his paperwork. He knew they were off towards a tough case, and would allow the team to have a few minutes to harass the brunette about her pregnancy as a relaxation tactic.

"But before you told me, you told boy genius about…Baby girl help me with a name here."

Garcia happily obliged. "Snow White and her fertile dwarf."

"—Garcia!" Emily scolded the other woman.

"I'm sorry, honey bunny. I know he's not even short, but my baby boy is sad. If insulting your baby daddy will make it better, well, so be it."

Morgan nodded in agreement. "You told Reid about Snow White and her fertile dwarf before me?"

"Oh, honey, you were just supposed to say: 'the fertile dwarf,'" Garcia facepalmed. Why had she even bothered to help him?

"Actually, out of the companions of the female BAU members, Will would be considered the shortest."

"Thanks Spence," JJ rolled her eyes.

"Mick Rawson is _not _my companion—"

"—Yeah, he's just the father of your child," JJ laughed to Garcia.

"And, Derek, no—" Emily ignored the two women and soothed her partner. She didn't miss this part of Morgan that she thought had disappeared over the past year, the needy part. "—I never told Reid. I wanted to tell the team all at once, but I had to tell Hotch because I can't go into the field anymore. And JJ wanted me to go out for whisky and sushi, and Garcia is Penelope Garcia."

"It's true," JJ agreed.

"I don't know how Reid knew," Emily honestly said and moved to face the young genius.

Reid only needed one look from Emily to know that she had given him permission to explain how he figured it out. "I saw you talking to Hotch a couple of weeks back. Your body language was serious, but his was very relaxed. Whatever that conversation concerned, it was clear it only involved you, likely outside of a work environment. You switched half of your green teas to chamomile, eliminating most of the remaining fragments of caffeine from you diet. And your nails are in perfect condition. Now, I've noticed that you've stopped your frequent fingernail picking a while back, although there has been the occasional relapse, but your nails are, as I said before, in perfect condition. Some individuals believe that folic acid and iron found in prenatal vitamins can have the side effect of healthier hair and nails. Folic acid and iron, which you wouldn't take just for grooming reasons, based on your previous treatment of your nails. Combining and extrapolating all possibilities I discerned there was around a 87% chance you were pregnant, of course lowering the percentage due to age and subsequent fertility factors." The fact the Emily had let him go on with the 'age' part really showed Morgan she was serious about not having told Reid. "Now, when it came to who the father was, I wasn't sure. However, taking note of body language and facial expressions on the case in San Francisco it's easy to see-"

"—Thank you, Dr. Reid," Emily laughed and playfully reached out to give the man a sisterly push on his shoulder. "We good now?" She asked Morgan.

"Yeah," Morgan chuckled. "Rawson, though."

"I know…Mick Rawson," Emily inhaled sharply.

"Jaje, I love how she let him get her pregnant, but still calls him 'Mick Rawson.' Full name, never just 'Mick,'" Garcia laughed.

"For the love of God, someone please hang up on her," Emily ordered with a playful eye roll, which made everyone laugh.

* * *

JJ wasn't one to normally eavesdrop. No, that was typically Garcia's job. However, she found herself just exiting the shower right as Mick Rawson had called Emily. It wasn't as if she was trying to be nosy. She couldn't help they were sharing a room. Plus, she reasoned that it would have been just as intrusive to walk out and interrupt their conversation.

"Prentiss," Emily answered from her hotel bed. She was already under the covers and exhausted, and it was barely 9pm.

"So you do answer your mobile. Bit like seeing the Loch Ness Monster, innit?"

"It was two years ago. Get over it," Emily replied back with a laugh. "I'm sorry you had to call so late."

"I'm a night owl," Mick replied from his apartment. He was laid out on the sofa, the TV on some QVC channel. "You all tucked up in bed?"

"Yeah, long day. You?"

"Watching the 'Bionic Sweater Shop' on QVC. Phone-in Josephine doesn't like the color black, and what do you know they don't sell this jumper in black. Must be fate." Emily laughed again on the other end of the call. "How are you feeling? Insides still capitulating at the sight of, well, anything?"

"It's been okay. The case is—"

"—Do tell," Mick cut in as he got more comfortable on his couch. "What's the victimology? What's the working profile you got so far?"

"Hm, someone needs a profiling fix," Emily chuckled.

"Please, I'm begging."

"You do that a lot around me."

"You've broken my spirit," Mick replied with a laugh.

Emily's smile quickly dissipated when she thought of the case again. She was sick of talking about the case. It had only been one day and it was already a drag. "I'm not trying to be—"

"—Got it. You don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah," Emily breathed out. She had felt like over the past year she had lost her luster for cases. She didn't feel the same, excitement wasn't the right word, but she didn't feel as impassioned about the work as she had a few years prior. She wagered she was just worn down. "Hey, if you miss it so much, why aren't you in it anymore?"

"I told you, budget."

"That doesn't mean you wouldn't be in the field anymore. They just stuck you in an office counterterrorism job at Quantico? Just weird given your experience."

Mick stayed quiet at the question, before he finally opted to answer. "I'm tired of being the government's bin man, your government and mine." A few seconds passed before Mick changed the subject, "What should I call you?"

"What?"

"What am I supposed to call you when it gets here? Went to the shops tonight, and I've been picking up on how much I dislike M-O-M. Sounds like 'ma-aw-m.'"

"It does not."

"It does so."

Emily bit her bottom lip and thought of his complaints. She hadn't really given much thought to what she would be called. "I don't like the way 'mum' sounds."

"Mother?"

"No," Emily hissed. "I call my mother 'mother.' I don't want to be 'mother.'"

"Mummy?"

"Mick—"

"—This is what I can compromise on."

Emily huffed at the demand. "Fine, then I get to pick what I call you to the baby. I'm choosing 'asshole.'"

"See, you Americans get it all wrong. Would've been a brilliant dig if you called it 'arsehole,'" He said smugly. "So...darling, what are you wearing?"

"Mick, no," Emily groaned.

"You have to tell me. It's in the rules."

"What? What rule?"

"It's in this parenting book I'm reading, chapter fifteen."

Emily used her free hand to cover her eyes while she held in a laugh, "What's it called?"

"The big book of parenting, of course!"

"You are such a liar," Emily scolded over a cackle. "I still have a gun."

"If you can't give me names I expect fabric—"

"—No."

"Color?"

"No!—"

"—Will you be sharing a bed with the blonde?"

"I'm hanging up," Emily threatened in a forced monotone voice. She licked her bottom lip and contemplated if she should say it. She didn't want to give him the wrong idea, and saying anything complimentary to Mick Rawson was still slightly painful for her. But, it was a long day so her guard was down, and he had been good about it all. He had been really good. He had been better at it than she had expected. It didn't seem as real to him as it did to her, but he had at least thought about it. The fact the whole 'mom' thing came up meant he must have, right? "I told the team and, um, just thanks for coming with me, last week to the thing."

"Absolutely!" He quickly said. "Got to know all your medical history. I've always been a bit of a nosy one. Got to see you half naked again, although it was the least interesting half—"

"—Mick!"

"I consider it a very successful outing."

"Yeah," Emily chuckled and stifled a yawn. "I have to go to bed. I'll call you halfway through the case or something. JJ's in the bathroom waiting and listening for me to hang up so she can go to bed."

"I'm not!" JJ cringed from the other side of the bathroom door.

* * *

**Some more 'girl time' scenes coming up. **

**Thank you for reading and reviewing. I am more of a JJ/Emily fan myself, so I'm glad readers think I'm doing an O.K. job with this pairing. **


	9. Handsome Co-Worker

"Hello, love," Mick Rawson loudly greeted as he walked into the BAU bullpen. Emily was the only one sitting at the cluster of desks, as Reid had joined Morgan for an early lunch. Meanwhile, JJ was holed up in Garcia's office. Emily had immediately recognized the voice, but chose to stay focused on her paperwork. "I come bearing gifts," He added, dropping a chocolate bar on her desk.

"Chocolate," She excitedly whispered as she quickly picked up the bar and started to unwrap it.

Mick smirked at how easily he was able to get her attention. "It's an apology for not being able to make the appointment this morning. Bit of a cock-up on my end. Couple of pricks wouldn't move the meeting," He offered as an explanation and leaned against her desk.

"It's fine. I didn't expect you to come to every one," Emily said as she broke off a piece of the chocolate and popped it into her mouth. "Everything's looking good."

"You didn't find out the gender then?"

"No, that's not for two weeks," Emily absentmindedly answered before refocusing on the man. "Wait— What are you doing here?"

"I work here."

"What are you doing here at my desk?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. He could've just called her to ask about the appointment. Then again, she wouldn't have gotten the chocolate bar. And did he own any other clothes besides leather jackets and boots? She was shocked he got away looking that way at the office. Counterterrorist was a lot more 'buttoned-up' than the BAU, but somehow he still got away with messy hair and a broken-in leather jacket. At least his pinstriped blue shirt had buttons on it.

Mick clapped his hands together at the question. "Now that you've stopped the whole sloshed-Irish-teen act, thought I could take you out for lunch."

"Lunch?" Emily had asked, sounding like she had never heard of the meal before.

Mick laughed at the question. "It's a meal between brekkie and dinner."

"Brekkie?"

"Come on now. I know you want to come, eh?"

Emily shook her head at his wager and drifted her eyes back to her case file. "No, I'm working."

"Don't be a tosser," He chided and tapped on her case file. The action had earned a glare and a small smile from the brunette. "After work then, let's go for a curry. It'd be fun. I want to take you out."

"Take me out," Emily repeated slowly, before she shifted her tone to one of sarcasm. "I hope you mean you're going to shoot me."

"As in a date."

"I would rather give birth to triplets without an epidural," Emily shot back, which earned her a laugh from the man. "Are you seriously asking me out for a date?"

Mick shrugged and gestured to her body, "I don't know who else will want you in your state."

"Charming," Emily replied with an eye roll.

"I've been telling you that for months now." Mick crossed his arms and just stared, smirking at the woman. "Are you wearing a skirt?" He asked, nodding over to the knee-length black skirt she was wearing with her loose, gray sweater. "What happened to the trouser suit? I very much liked _those_."

Emily slightly cringed at the question and admitted in her quietest voice, "My pants don't fit."

"That is—"

"—If you say 'brilliant' I will shoot you," Emily cut the man off with narrowed eyes.

"I was going to say 'fantastic,'" Mick replied with a laugh. "Come on, Emily. Here I am, risking life and limb, in an attempt to take out my kid's mum—"

"—I didn't make you insult me—"

"—I meant risking my life to try to ask you for a night out," Mick laughed with a shake of his head. "Come on, we got the hard part out of the way. You are a chopsy one, eh?"

"Mick…" Emily groaned and briefly dropped her head in her hands. To her it felt like he didn't take the whole thing seriously. Maybe it was because she had been dealing with weeks of vomiting, and being lethargic, and a litany of other pregnancy side effects, including gaining a couple pounds in what felt like a few days, but the whole thing had started to feel very real for her. She knew she was having a baby. The shock had worn off. And because of that she took the whole thing seriously. She had seen firsthand what an ambitious woman could do to a relationship. Sure, she wasn't her mother, but she wasn't about to be a stay-at-home-mom either. The men she knew typically didn't do well with that, including her own father. Ironically, the man who probably had been her best 'partner' was a murderous psychopath who she hated and tried to kill her.

And Mick Rawson? Well, Emily had heard enough about him to know he wasn't exactly known to be a man who wanted a woman to challenge him. When Garcia had worked with him, the blonde had dropped some information about a few of his nightly conquests just to make Emily a little jealous. For some reason, Garcia really thought they suited each other. It felt like it was all a game to Mick Rawson, and Emily couldn't be his second player. She didn't want to do that to begin with, and even less now that there was a child involved.

When it was clear Emily wasn't going to expand on her groan, Mick let out an annoyed laugh. "Right, then. I won't beg, because I don't think it would work," He added in the joke for good measure before he dropped his voice. "I've barely seen you since you left for the case in Texas."

"I know. I'm sorry," Emily said genuinely. It had been one case after another. As soon as Texas finished, the team was off to San Diego and then flew straight to Kansas City. Her and Mick had stayed in contact, just with minor day-to-day things, but the two hadn't seen each other for three weeks. Mick missing their morning appointment hadn't helped. "Listen, I would invite you over tonight— Not like that," She quickly clarified when she saw the glint in his eyes. "But I promised myself if I got to this point I would call. So I'm calling my mother to tell her."

"You haven't told her yet?"

"I wanted to wait for 2nd trimester," Emily sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She hoped to God Garcia wasn't watching their conversation. She was sure the technical analyst would read into how long it went on. "I told you we're not exactly close. It's just— It's weird to say a co-worker got me pregnant."

"Handsome co-worker," Mick corrected.

"Yes," Emily looked up at the ceiling and let out a chuckle. "It is weird to tell my mother my 'handsome,' arrogant co-worker got me pregnant."

"At least you acknowledge it now, Prentiss."

Emily nervously ran her fingertips over her computer keyboard. She had been finding that Mick Rawson could make her feel torn unlike anyone else. "I know this has been difficult, and I might have sent mixed messages with the whole, 'getting to know each other, but nothing else' thing, but it's complicated. Even if we wanted to— And I'm not saying I, we would— We have to think about someone else here. It's permanent…" She drifted off as she saw Reid and Morgan approaching. "I'll call you tonight, and you can tell me all about your political leaning and religious beliefs," She teased and nodded in the direction of Reid and Morgan.

Mick got the hint and got off her desk. "Labour all the way," He said lowly. He then put on a loud, exagerrated-professional voice, "Nice talking with you, Agent Prentiss. I will keep that profiling advice in mind."

Emily watched the three men interact. Mick had said something to Reid, who quickly made his way to his desk. However, the dark-haired man's interaction with Morgan had lasted a little longer. Mick had apparently said something funny to the taller man, who laughed and playfully punched Mick in the arm as the two separated.

"Flirting with ya baby daddy on FBI time. I am shocked, Prentiss," Morgan joked as he scooted on to the edge of Emily's desk.

"You have your own desk to sit on," She teased and pretended to make an effort to push him off.

Morgan feigned hurt, "You let JJ sit here."

"I like JJ," Emily deadpanned, but her grin gave away she was joking.

Morgan just laughed at teasing and looked around the quiet bullpen. It was nice to finally have a break after all of the recent rush. The ambiance of near-silent copiers and the air conditioning unit running would have bored them to death if they were stuck out of the field all the time, but after their recent stretch it felt damn-near comforting. "Hey!" Morgan said and dropped his hand on Emily, desk, startling Reid. "Sorry," Morgan offered with a shrug. "Hey, let's do something tonight. It doesn't have to be drinks."

"I wish," Emily grumbled.

"Oh, I forgot. Date planning," Morgan mocked.

"No, it's not that," Emily replied distractedly before she jerked her back up to pointedly roll her eyes at Morgan. "We're not dating. He was only here because he asked me a translation question," She lied.

"Is that so?" Morgan asked as he moved to stare at the woman, trying to pick up on any hints if she was lying or not.

"Don't profile a profiler."

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter," Morgan shot back with a laugh. "I know what workplace flirting looks like. We have a whole translation department."

"He needed someone who profiling experience to help," She covered before breaking into laughter at Morgan's concentrated face trying to figure out if she was lying or not. "Go away," She ordered with a playful huff, admitting he had caught her.

"Keep an eye on her, boy genius."

"Did you know the phrase 'keep an eye on' is a variation on the expression 'keep an eye out for: insert something or someone'? And that idiom actually originated from ship times—"

"—Telescopes for watching sailors," Emily completed, making Reid light up. He loved that Emily had an appreciation for language like him.

"They were watching to make sure there were no land masses, icebergs, in fact—"

"—Okay, you got me to leave," Morgan cut off, raising his hands in surrender. Not even making fun of Prentiss was worth enduring another idiom origin lesson with her and Dr. Reid.

* * *

Emily anxiously spun her phone on her coffee table. It would have been around 8:30 in the morning in Japan, which meant her Mother was definitely already at the Embassy. It wasn't really a post her mother had wanted, Emily knew that. Elizabeth had wanted to go back to Russia, but more and more Ambassadorships were being gifted to huge political donors versus career foreign policy veterans. Elizabeth Prentiss had ultimately been given a choice between either a 'deputy' position in Russia— all the responsibility, none of the glamour— or Ambassador to Japan. Of course, Elizabeth Prentiss being a self-respecting woman chose Japan. Emily found it ironic. All her mother's time in politics, and politics had still fucked her over.

"I hate politics," Emily mumbled to no one but herself. She thought that maybe, hopefully, her unborn child would hear in-utero and come out agreeing with her. A few more minutes passed and Emily finally picked up the phone. It was funny. All her life she had been content to be combative with her mother. If a decision made her mother upset, well that only meant it was the perfect decision, but Emily found herself apprehensive about this. She had known the pain her mother must have gone through when she was thought dead. Emily had assumed her mother would've somehow found out, but evidently Ambassadors weren't quite privy to clandestine security missions for American intelligence agencies. Ambassadors were called in to help carry out 'plans', not to make them. It made sense. It had been logical. She was her mother's only child. Her mother would've tried to contact her in some way. It was...It was just so unfair.

It was unfair what Emily had put her mother through. All her life, Elizabeth Prentiss had saddled her with expectations, and loneliness, and inadvertent pain, and after Doyle Emily felt she had returned the favor. Her mother's face had been burned into her brain. Emily had retuned, alive, to the family's longtime Kalorama home base a few weeks before 'The Ambassador' was due to fly out to Japan. She remembered how quickly her mother had pulled her into a hug, a real one, and how she wasn't quite sure if it was because Elizabeth wanted to hold her or she wanted to make sure Emily couldn't see her cry. There would always be scars there. There would always be baggage, and there would probably always be pain. She knew her mother would never explicitly apologize. Emily wasn't even sure what that would look like, but as she had gotten older Emily had been able to make peace with the older woman. And now? Now she didn't want to find themselves on unsteady ground again. She would still make fun of her mother and criticize her, but they weren't in a 'bad place.' Well, not by Prentiss standards anyway.

"Emily?" Elizabeth had answered in her typical, always even, always graceful voice. However, her tone slightly let on that she was surprised she had received a call instead of an email. "Is everything…Are you well?"

"Yeah," Emily breathed out a little nervously. "Um, I just wanted to call you."

"And you have."

"Yeah…" _Say something, _Emily berated herself. "I'm calling because…Well, how are you?"

"I am very well. I am hosting a diplomatic reception tonight with the Minister of Finance. Needless to say, it's a bit chaotic here. Not that I am not pleased to hear your voice. What is your news?"

"News?"

"I assume you called me with some sort of news. You don't call otherwise."

It was said in a flat tone, nothing accusatory, but Emily couldn't help but roll her eyes. Her mother could call her too, right? "I don't only call with news."

"But you have news, do you not?"

She had been trained by the C.I.A. to survive interrogation, but no one could ever interrogate her like Elizabeth Prentiss. "I know you're busy so I'll get to the point," Emily slightly groaned. "I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant?"

"Yeah," Emily cringed. "Around 15 weeks?"

"You're very pregnant, then."

"No, it's still new," Emily reply a little too defensively.

"That's…wonderful."

Emily wondered if it had pained her mother to say that. "Yeah…" Emily drawled out and bit her bottom lip.

"Who is the father? I assume a boyfriend since I would have hoped you would have told me any marriage news."

"Well, Mother, you know I'm just not really a 'marriage' person."

"Right," Her mother replied in a somewhat disapproving voice. "A boyfriend, then? A parter?"

"He's a…man," Emily dropped her head on the back of her sofa in embarrassment over that. When it came to talking to her mother she could always articulate herself about as well as an old shoe.

"Considering you've found yourself pregnant, I've inferred that Emily. Do you know who the father is?"

"Mother," Emily whined.

"I didn't judge."

"He's a…He's Mick Rawson. He's an FBI Agent, too."

"I'm sorry Emily, I only remember an Agent Hotchner. Have I met a Mick Rawson?"

_I hope not, _Emily thought to herself. "He's in counterterrorism. We met as co-workers, but we're not co-workers anymore. He works in a different section."

"I'm sure I would have heard about it from Erin otherwise," Elizabeth chuckled. "Emily," Her mother started in a firm, but kind voice. "I am your mother. You are my only child. I know there are times where you have doubted it, but I _do _love you. This will be my only grandchild."

"I know," Emily nodded, a little more relieved.

"I am just attempting to get a clearer picture. However, I am ecstatic about the news."

"You are?"

"I am." Emily found herself a little in disbelief at that. "You are not a twenty-one year-old college student. I would not have imagined for you— I would have pictured a husband, but…" Elizabeth drifted off, trying to, but not finding a gentler way to put: _I'm happy, but wished you weren't unmarried and pregnant with a co-worker. _

Emily nodded along to her mother's reservations, opting not to argue about anything she had said. "Will you be coming into town soon then? Not right away but when they're born?"

Emily heard Elizabeth sigh at the question. "You know how it is when you are posted. I will see about trying to arrange some time to meet he or she, but you know I have certain obligations—"

"—I know," Emily cut her mother off. She felt oddly disappointed at the answer. She should've expected it, but the whole 'I'm ecstatic' comment lulled her into a different reality. She loved her mother, and they were better off than they were say fifteen, even five, years ago, but her mother was still her mother. "It's okay, really."

"I would love to have a long talk about all of this, but I do have to go."

"Yeah," Emily nodded and shallowly swallowed. "Um, good luck with your dinner."

"Thank you. Stay well, Emily," Elizabeth replied before she hung up the phone.

Emily was sure she didn't feel entirely unlike she did when she was hit by that truck a few years back. Her mother did seem excited, but not enough to visit. Then again, that was Elizabeth Prentiss's M.O. She had always loved Emily in her own way, as she had gotten older Emily had grown to appreciate that. But she never quite loved her enough to be _there. _

Emily wasn't sure why, but immediately Mick Rawson popped into her head. She had promised to call him. And then, quicker than she would have expected herself to, she did.

He had picked up immediately, "Hello, darling. How did it go?"

Emily frowned at the question. She didn't really want to rehash the conversation. "It went fine."

"Just fine?"

"How did it go when you told Jenna?"

"Fucking hell," He complained, earning a laugh and smile from Emily.

"What did you do?"

"I'm not telling ya."

"Mick," She ordered in a low voice. "Chapter thirteen in your 'big book of parenting.'"

Mick laughed once he realized she had made up another fake chapter from the fake parenting book he had quoted from a few weeks before. "You'll have a laugh at my expense."

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," She admitted with a grin.

"Had a nasty accident with chopsticks, Kung Pao chicken and my trousers—"

"—I'm sure you've gotten way grosser messes than Kung Pao chicken on your pants before—"

"Well, what a funny woman you are," He sarcastically stated. "I told you already. It went on well, phoning Jenna. Called me a 'stupid twat,' real mouth on that one, and said she couldn't wait to meet the woman who was lucky enough to get me."

Emily laughed at the way he had recounted it before she challenged, "She put it like that? Lucky enough?"

"No."

"I didn't think so," Emily laughed again, and stretched out on her sofa.

"Is your mum the reason you won't go on a date with me?"

"I already told you the reason."

"Is she?" He asked in a voice that was more 'profiler' than Mick Rawson.

"No," Emily answered honestly. "I'm not a commitment person, neither are you. When was the last time you had a serious relationship?"

"I work a lot," Mick defended with a smile, which made Emily erupt into laughter.

"Exactly."

"I just haven't met the right woman to tame me."

"And I hope you meet her soon. Ideally, far away from me," Emily teased with a lopsided grin.

"You are the cruelest woman I've ever known," Mick said over a cackle he wasn't sure came from him or Emily. "Here's a problem for ya to solve. My lease isn't up for 7 months."

"Okay?"

"I have one bedroom," Mick reminded.

Emily inhaled sharply at the question. This was a complication she had forgotten about. "Right."

"New babies, they have to be near their mums at first. Eh?"

"Right."

"Should I do up a nursery after a move then?"

It was times like these that made Emily remember how unprepared they were for this. It wasn't like she was an idiot or incapable of taking care of a child, it was just a lot of preparation. It was time consuming and the BAU didn't lend itself to personal life preparation. "Um, yeah, I guess? I'm sorry. I don't really know."

"You're bloody useless, Prentiss," Mick mocked in a playful nature. "It just occurred to me on my ride home."

"Another problem for you to remedy," Emily commented as she thought of his black and gray motorcycle. "You're right about them needing to stay with me, though. Not that I'm trying to separate you two!" She quickly added.

"Absolutely."

"We'll think about it, okay?" Emily didn't wait for him to answer before she had asked him a question. "Do you think you'll be a good dad?"

Mick took a minute to think about it. He hadn't really thought so much about that, oddly enough. "I think so."

"You do?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Emily," Mick ordered with a laugh. "Why wouldn't I? You don't think I would be?"

"Not that," Emily sighed and stifled a yawn. "No, I wasn't trying to say that. I was just surprised you were so sure."

"You're not sure you'll be a good mum?" Mick perceptively asked.

Emily closed her eyes at the question. She didn't answer. "I don't know. I don't want to talk about this."

"You're the one who brought it up," He reminded her gently with a laugh.

"What are you going to tell them, about what you do?" Emily had asked him instead.

Mick took a breath and seemed to contemplate his answer. Emily wondered if he was still on his sofa or if he had moved to his bed. She wondered what his face looked like when she had asked him. Was he wearing the look of pure confidence he normally exuded? Or did he look more pensive? Did he look the way he did when he told her to trust Sam all those years ago? "I will say I work in an office."

"And when you were a sniper?"

"I'll tell them someday," Mick replied in an even tone. She could hear him let out a tired chuckle. "You have it easier there, Prentiss."

"How so?"

"You get to tell them you catch the rotten ones. You catch bad guys."

"So do you," Emily offered.

"I do, but they'll think Mummy is the true hero won't they now?"

"I don't know." She was uncertain when she said it. He had easily picked up on it. There were scars there. She wasn't sure she could ever go into the extent of her past of 'catching bad guys.' Would that be impressive? Sure, maybe if she was the child's aunt or friend it would be 'cool.' A little boy would probably envy having a friend with a former spy mom, but would her own child take to that? Would it scare them?

"You know what we can talk about instead?" Mick had changed the subject, shaking her from her internal wondering.

"What?"

"What you're wearing," He ventured with a smirk, and was fast to talk over her loud groan. "You have gotta give me something here!"

"Try Rossi," Emily ordered with a cocky smile of her own. "He _loves_ talking about where he gets his clothes."

Mick just chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. "I should let you go to bed then. Have a lovely night, Emily."

"You too, Mick."

As Emily hung up the phone she couldn't help but face the facts that while the first call of the night had been draining for a variety of reasons, talking to Mick didn't ever make her feel entirely awful. He made her feel like she was a person again. She didn't feel like an agent who had been stabbed, or someone with dirty secrets, or a daughter who was loved but brought disappointments. She felt 'normal.' She had hoped they wouldn't loose that.

* * *

**Much thanks for reading and reviewing. **

**Glad everyone is good with the pacing. I was concerned it might be a little too slow, but Emily Prentiss really doesn't seem like a character who would suddenly fall for someone. **


	10. You Deserve A Life

It had been a few days since Emily had called the Ambassador, and she desperately needed to pick up some new pants. Garcia and JJ, well mostly Garcia, had begged to join on in the shopping trip, so Emily agreed under the condition that someone had to drive her. Garcia gladly accepted. It was a well-worth tradeoff to watch Emily Prentiss, of all people, have to buy maternity pants. It was like watching a dog walk on it's hind legs. They knew it was possible, but they didn't ever expect to witness it themselves.

After Emily groaned and moaned about two pairs of 'ugly' pants, the group found themselves at a diner near the shops. The old diner, with its movie posters and cracked leather booths, was fairly empty, which Garcia was thrilled about because then her and JJ could interrogate Emily in peace.

"When are we finding out?" Garcia questioned with a wicked grin. "I know you know what I'm asking."

"A few days," Emily chuckled and shook her head. Both blondes were really excited to find out the sex. They cared more than she did. This baby was a bonus to her. As long as they were healthy, she didn't care, mostly. She had one preference but didn't want to put it out there just yet. She didn't want to seem 'disappointed' when she found out.

"Hope they cooperate with you," JJ added before she tucked into her bowl of chili. "We tried at 16 weeks, Henry was in the wrong position. I had never been more disappointed in my life."

"Can you tell?"

"Garcia? What?" Emily laughed and raised her hands a little confused. "How would I know? I don't really have a point of comparison."

Emily had turned and asked the question of JJ, who ignored Emily and decided to change the subject. Sex would turn into baby colors, which would turn into nursery and clothing talk, and that would only make Garcia crazy. "Hey, you haven't told us yet. How did it go with your mom?"

"It went okay," Emily shrugged. She had conflicted feelings about it herself. She wasn't sure exactly sure how to articulate it to her two friends. "She was happy, mostly."

"Mostly?" Garcia asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you know how mother is," Emily slightly chuckled. "She was happy. Not happy enough for a visit, or to say she didn't care how the baby got here, but she was happy. That might actually be a blessing in disguise anyway, but it wasn't bad. It went about as well as I could hope."

Emily's comments had just made JJ feel sad. Sometimes she would look at the other two women and what they had to go through in their families…It wasn't as if JJ had the perfect family either, but she at least had a real mother. She had a warm mother who didn't think twice about her not being married to Will when they had Henry. Her mother didn't judge every time JJ would complain to her about her problems with Will. She was just 'there.' And Emily, and Garcia for that matter, didn't really have that.

"How have things been with Mick?" Garcia changed the subject.

Emily took a long sip of lemonade to buy herself some time. "They've been going well."

"'Well' is better than 'fine,'" JJ laughed to the other blonde. "So things are good then?"

"He's not awful," Emily offered with a small chuckle.

"Big praise," Garcia teased and popped a french fry into her mouth. Strangely enough, Emily was the only one who wasn't eating. She had gotten over the worst of her morning sickness, but greasy food still made her feel a little queasy. All she needed was to get food poisoning.

"He's still—"

"—Arrogant, over-sexed and egotistical?" JJ questioned with a laugh.

Emily shook her head, amused. "Yeah. I don't know. He's not that bad after all."

"Oh is that so, sweetness?" Garcia asked knowingly. "You're happy with him, then?"

Emily took a beat to think about how she wanted to answer the question. She wasn't 'with' anyone in the traditional sense, but they did get along well. They had things in common. They had similar values. She liked spending time with him. He made her laugh and he understood her personality. That's all that she could have hoped for when she found out she was pregnant a few months prior. "He's still extremely obnoxious," Emily stated jokingly. "I don't dislike spending time with him. He's nice enough. He's easy to talk to. He understands when to shut up and listen and when to reply, which is a rare trait in my own experience with men." Neither blonde interrupted her, a signal for her to go on. "We've been getting to know each other. Favorite color is blue, compromising on holidays, decided to go with a nanny, no church, that kind of stuff."

"Who gets what holiday?" Garcia asked excitedly, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. She prayed Emily got Christmas so she could invite herself over.

"We share Christmas. He gets Boxing Day and I get Thanksgiving."

Garcia and JJ both looked confused and asked at the same time, "Boxing day?"

"Day after Christmas, it's a thing," Emily laughed. "He wants to subject his poor child to watch his terrible soccer team. Sorry _football club_."

Garcia giggled at Emily's imitation of Mick. "What if you have a girl?"

"He still subject her to it."

"Damn right he will," JJ spoke up, excited at least one other person in their extended group liked the sport. Although she was a Liverpool fan herself, and assumed-slash-hoped that Emily didn't mean Liverpool when she said 'terrible team.' "Have you met his sister?"

"She just got a new job in Ireland. She wants to come as soon as he or she is here," Emily answered as she stole one of Garcia's fries. "I talked to her a bit on FaceTime. She's very sweet. I had a baby with the wrong Rawson," She finished with a grin.

"So you met his sister and have been getting along really well. Have you guys?" Garcia asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows, knowing Emily knew exactly what she was hinting at.

"No," Emily choked a little on her lemonade.

"Not even kissed?" JJ asked a little surprised. Well, maybe not that surprised. It was Emily Prentiss after all. The brunette was probably the most stubborn person she knew.

"No," Emily shook her head. "I mean, he still pretends her wants to—"

"—I'm sure he wants to," Garcia laughed.

"I'm pregnant."

"Oh, please," JJ waved off the statement with an eye roll as if it was the stupidest thing she had ever heard. "You're being ridiculous. You're pregnant with _his _baby. I seriously doubt it puts him off. Em, come on, you haven't thought about it at all? He's hot. Don't try to deny it, and all those hormones…"

"Jaje," Emily began with a laugh, although she might have gotten a little red at the question. It wasn't quite a blush, Emily had turned off that reaction years ago, but she was a little…flushed. "Even if I were to want to— I'm not saying I do— It's not a good idea. Where we are right now is good. We're communicating with no drama. We care about the same things. We're on the same page. That's all that matters."

"And what if he were to want to date someone else?" Garcia asked and pointed a french fry at Emily. "Would you be totally cool with that?"

"It's his right," Emily replied in a disinterested voice. "I'd want— Well, if she was going to be around my kid I'd like to meet her, I guess. He can do whatever he wants outside of that."

"You're saying it wouldn't bother you?"

Emily licked her bottom lip and thought about JJ's question. Would it bother her? Maybe a little, but that didn't change anything. "I couldn't answer you."

"Em—" JJ started before both her and Garcia broke into laughter. It was clear they weren't getting anywhere on the Mick Rawson issue. So they moved on to whether or not Emily was buying a house: she wasn't. If her and Mick had any names: they didn't. And, finally, if Emily had a birth plan: drugged up as much as possible in the hospital.

The group of women all hugged before JJ got in her car to go home, and Penelope and Emily got into Garcia's to drive Emily home. Garcia had wondered all through their shockingly quiet drive home if she should bring it up. She had known what it was like when you pushed Emily too far. The older woman could go from the kindest person in the world to a fully clammed up Elizabeth Prentiss replica in like ten seconds, but Garcia loved her. Garcia genuinely loved Emily, and she didn't want her to screw up her life. She knew what it was like to live with words unsaid. She knew what it was like to have a list of things to say to Emily, and to be left and wishing that Emily would hear them on her voicemail. She didn't think they would ever be in that position again, but she still wanted to avoid the unsaid words. She trusted their friendship was strong enough for her to be honest with Emily, even if the other woman hated what she had to say.

"Why won't you give Mick a chance?" Garcia asked right as they pulled into Emily's parking lot. It had started to rain. The moon was covered by clouds so the only lights above them were the street lamps positioned in front of the rows of cars.

"So that's what you were so quiet," Emily semi-laughed.

"Em—"

"—Garcia, why are you pushing this?"

Garcia took off her seatbelt and moved to face her friend, "I know Mick. When we met him he was cocky, but he wasn't afraid of you. He wasn't intimidated by a strong woman. That's why I liked him for you at first, because you could be yourself. All the guys you've gone out with so far? They didn't want you to be you. But Mick? You wouldn't have to be 'lesser' to make him feel manly."

"Okay," Emily replied in a distant voice. Her body was completely rigid.

"As I got to know him a little better at work...I think he's a really good guy, gumdrop. He's super close with Sam, so I know there's something good in there because Sam doesn't love everyone. Mick is…Mick is like you. He guards it, but he's so pure on the inside. He's really good. And because of that I think he would really understand you. Honey," Garcia said, grabbing Emily's hands in her own, "I love you so much. I love you but you aren't— You've been through so much. And you've stood still because of it. You came back to us and pretended you were fine, and we all believed you. Because we want you to be 'fine' so bad. We all love you so much that we just want to believe what's easy, and for that we've failed you."

"Pen, you haven't—"

"—Emily, I know what he did. We found the computer monitors, where he had the sniper orders given. We know he made you be part of that, watch that, and probably a million other things we don't know about. We have all been so caught up in what we needed from you and you telling us it's all okay, but have any of us told _you_ it's going to be 'okay'? Because I don't think we have. I think you've told us you're okay because you've felt so bad about our grief, but no one has been there for you or yours. No one has told you 'it's okay.' No one has told you you're good, and you're brave, and you deserve the babies you've always wanted, and the guy." Garcia cleared the emotion from her throat and became more serious. "Well, I'm telling you now. Emily, it's over. He's gone. It's all over. It's okay. You're good. You're brave. You deserve the babies you've always wanted, and the matching guy if you want him too. Maybe Mick isn't the guy for you. Maybe I'm wrong about him, but if you do like him? You deserve a life, Emily. I know you all think I'm goofy, old Penelope—"

"—No, Pen—"

"—You all do, and I love that," Garcia admitted with a laugh and smile. "But after I was shot, you encouraged me to cyberflirt with Kevin. JJ told me to go after him, and you both made me feel like I was worthy of love. And Emily, you are worthy of love. You deserve a life, a real life outside of the BAU."

Emily cleared her throat a little at the speech and then joked, "Why aren't you a profiler again?"

"Because you computer-stunted doofuses would be lost in the big worldwide web without me," Garcia joked back before wiping the tears from her eyes. "Will you think about what I said?"

"I will," Emily responded in a soft tone. She leaned forward to give Garcia a long hug. In spite of it all, she felt that she was so lucky. She was so lucky that Penelope Garcia was one of her best friends. "Maybe I'll date Morgan," Emily mumbled into Garcia's hair.

"You're really pushing it here, Madame 007."

* * *

**Did a double update and haven't had a chance to proofread. Hope there aren't too many errors. I will check later.**

**Gender reveal tomorrow. Unless there are more suggestions I have that done. No spoilers. **


	11. Past and Present

Emily had spent the past few days giving a lot of consideration to what Garcia had told her. The simple truth was that the other woman was right. Emily had been hiding. It wasn't intentional, it never was, but she was just so concerned about everything else that she hadn't really talked about what happened to her. She hadn't really talked about what it was like to be terrified for weeks before Doyle came for her. She hadn't really talked about what it felt like to walk away from that briefing room, knowing she might never come back_. _She hadn't really talked about the stress of feeling her team was in danger. She hadn't talked about the terror of being abducted. She hadn't talked about waking up in the hospital, and being told she was dead and had to go on the run.

At the time, it had felt akin to death, maybe even worse. She hadn't talked about the black abyss she had experienced after being stabbed, and how that at the very least she thought she was doomed to an afterlife of purgatory. At first, purgatory felt like a relief. She had felt responsible for years about Matthew's downfall. Then, she had essentially prostituted herself for a job. On top of all of that, she had been privy to and involved with Doyle's crimes. And then just as suddenly as she left, she was back in D.C. She was back in the BAU, and the only people she felt who really loved her didn't trust her any longer. She had to win them back. She had to explain. It was hard to explain, to soothe away their grief before she could even process her own. It weighed on her. It was true, what she had told Reid a year prior. He had grieved one friend. She had grieved five, and there was a lot more grief for her.

All of that…Maybe it did make her feel she didn't deserve a second chance. And maybe because of that, she didn't really give a lot of time to herself. Now she had found herself pregnant, and she needed to be good for the sake of the baby. But also, maybe she deserved to be good for herself.

* * *

He had been waiting for her in the doctor's office's parking lot. They had driven from Quantico together, but she had forgotten her phone in her car. Mick had watched as she quickly rushed back to her car to grab it. That was when she had been stopped but a tall, blonde guy parked next to her. She had laughed, and Mick couldn't help but feel a little hatred for the smarmy bastard.

"You flirt with dodgy men in car parks now, eh?" Mick asked after she had made her way back to him.

"Who?" Emily replied, completely confused what he was talking about.

Mick crossed his arms at her question, obviously not believing her, "Blondie over there."

"I definitely did not, but are you…jealous?" Emily asked with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

"I don't get jealous."

"Right," She sarcastically drawled.

"I don't."

"Mhmm," She replied noncommittally, noticing as he looked her up and down.

"I'm glad the trousers are back. I missed them," He winked with a haughty grin.

She narrowed her eyes at his gaze, "Don't look at my pants," She warned before she crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip. "And don't look at me like at that."

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Well…Look where we are, love," He laughed and outstretched his arms, gesturing to the concrete outside front of the medical office they were about to walk inside.

She opted to ignore his very correct observation. "JJ made me paranoid," Emily admitted with a small huff.

"What she say?" Mick asked as the two walked into the office lobby, their strides in step with one and other.

"She said when she was pregnant with Henry he was in the wrong position. They couldn't know the sex for another two weeks or something."

Mick abruptly stopped at the comment, "Wrong position? I didn't know that was possible. What if we just gave you a quick shake?"

"Try to touch me again and it'll be your last," Emily threatened with a grin.

"It came in then," Mick said, nodding toward her small bump.

"Uh, yeah."

"Does it have a bounce around in there?"

"Not yet," Emily remarked a little distracted as she signed in. They had opted not to sit down in the hard gray chairs placed around the perimeter of the waiting room, but rather stand near the hallway that would take them back to the examination room. It had kind of become their habit— Known throughout the office as the two agents who never sat down.

"Bit lazy then, eh?"

Emily chuckled at the comment, "Yeah. Wonder where they learned that from."

"You, obviously," Mick teased.

"Said the man who went from sitting all day on a roof to sitting all day in an office."

"I was a proper Bond," He shot back in a fake offended voice.

"Maybe 'Frank Bond,' James's overconfident, lazier, cousin," Emily playfully mocked as they were called back to the white exam room.

"I squatted on that roof. Get it right."

Fairly used to the process by then, Emily arranged herself on the exam chair as Mick stood next to her. Emily had fixed her eyes on the blank black screen, and nervously picked at her nails. She was slightly annoyed by Mick's foot's incessant tapping, but didn't say anything. She was nervously excited too. Everything thus far had been a surprise, it was nice to _hopefully _have some fixed information for once.

"You've made me go bloody mad," He commented before shuffling around a little in place. "Now I'm worried they won't see it either."

"Blame JJ."

"I do," Mick laughed and ran his hand through his messy hair. "Can we come back tomorrow if she doesn't know?"

"Doubt it."

"Why not?"

Emily chuckled at the man, "She has other patients."

"Who cares about them," Mick deadpanned, eliciting a laugh from the brunette woman. "If we have a boy are we naming it after its father?"

"I don't know if I would be comfortable naming a child Satan Jr."

"Hey, what did I tell ya about that?" Mick slightly scolded in reply to Emily's joke. "I prefer to be called Beelzebub."

Emily's laughter was cut off when the older, blonde technician entered into the exam room and straightened out her pink scrubs, "Good afternoon, Agents." The woman had pointed out the baby's hands and features of its face, all along the way both Mick and Emily looked at each other confused. Despite repeating "yeah" over and over again as if they knew what they were looking at, it still just looked like an oval cellophane wrapper.

"And here are baby's legs," The technician pointed out. "Are you two hoping for anything?"

"No," Emily quickly answered, but Mick proved to be more thoughtful.

"If we were to have a lad, she might be up for another to get her girl she pretends not to want—" The word _another _stuck out in Emily's head. Another? Where did that come from? "—But a wee Emily Prentiss would be a very interesting prospect. That would be almost too irresistible," He added with a laugh.

"Better a mini me than a mini you," Emily shot back with a grin, ignoring 'another.'

"We'll have to ask your mum about that, love," He teased. Normally, a comment like that might inadvertently bring up some hurt, but it didn't when Mick said it. Maybe because he already knew there was complicated history there, but still treated her the same as he would anyone else.

"Well," The technician laughed a little before directing the two's attention back to the screen. "If you see right here—" She pointed but they couldn't see anything "—Nothing there. So you two are having a little girl."

"Oh, thank god," Emily breathed out, and watched as Mick's eyes lit up. Okay, maybe they had really wanted a girl after all. Emily trained her attention back on the giggling technician. "We would have loved a boy—"

"—No, we wouldn't," Mick laughed with a smirk. "Thanks for telling us."

"When I was outside the room I overheard that you two were a little nervous. I was _this _close to telling you I couldn't see anything at first," The tech joked.

"Good thing you didn't," Mick said as he nodded over towards Emily. "This one carries a gun."

"And he has a stapler," Emily had added with a lopsided grin, earning a shake of the head from Mick.

* * *

After they had departed, Emily had walked into the BAU to find JJ, Garcia, and Reid crowding around her desk. Apparently Morgan was out for the afternoon, because otherwise he surely would've been there too.

"Can I help you?" Emily asked in a tone that meant she wasn't really asking them, before she slipped into her desk chair. She was barely able to get in and avoid JJ, who was once again sitting on her desk. She felt she needed to break JJ of that habit.

"Come on, Em," JJ groaned and sharply exhaled. "We know you know. Why are you doing this to us?"

Emily couldn't help but chuckle at the palpable excitement, but was shocked there was so little coming from Garcia. "Garcia?"

"I'm only here just in case you spill, _but,_" She emphasized with a raise of her finger, "I would not be opposed to waiting for a gender reveal party. I'm thinking we get some bal—"

"—I'm having a girl," Emily quickly spit out. She was most definitely not having a 'gender reveal' party. It was bad enough she was getting a baby shower.

"Yes!" JJ raised her fist in the air triumphantly. Reid nodded along in agreement. The BAU boy curse was broken.

"Are all you crazy people happy now? You got your girl," Emily laughed again. She really did love how excited the team was for her. Plus, she had to admit it would be nice to have a little girl at their team outings. Henry and Jack were adorable, but she hoped she would have a little girl who picked flowers with Reid instead of watching three boys running around, terrorizing the rest of the group with Morgan. "I think I broke Garcia." She added as she poked Garcia's arm, wondering why the other woman was barely able to speak.

"I— I—" Garcia sputtered. "I had hoped, but was expecting— I never thought— I have to go shopping right now!" The technical analyst moved to hug Emily and had run off to finally buy all the baby stuff she had desperately wanted to get for years. Sure, she had bought some of the stuff for Henry anyway, as far as she was concerned boys could wear pink too, but Will had refused to dress the boy in them. Will… "Mick would never betray me like that," Garcia mumbled to herself as she headed out for a late lunch at the baby store.

"That was surprisingly low-key," Emily smiled to the other two profilers, before she heard Morgan's booming voice calling out.

"What are we having, Princess?!"

Reid cringed a little at the other man's loud voice, "You spoke too soon."

"So dumb," JJ said and pointed up to Reid to show she agreed with him.

* * *

Mick had brought over Chinese to Emily's later that night. He had just had it a week or so ago, but she had finally gotten to the point where she could have it without the smell making her sick, and, well, that was the weird part. He knew that. He knew a lot about her daily schedule. He was there for a lot of her daily schedule. He spent a lot of time with her. He would see her at least twice a week, unless she was traveling, and even if she was traveling they would talk most nights. They hadn't ever gone out for a date, but he also didn't know how much different it was than dating. Wasn't dating getting to know someone else and spending time together? Granted, they never went out together, but that also just made Emily Prentiss the most low-maintenance woman out there.

However, he was sure that at the end of a dating process there was an endgame. Mick wasn't the most experienced when it came to actual relationships, but there didn't seem to be an endpoint for them. After getting to know each other it wasn't like Emily was going to be with him. She was adamant about that. That being said, he did call Penelope Garcia about the situation and was told that while she wouldn't interfere too much and respect any decision Emily would make, that he should be patient. Actually, her exact works were: _You've already been upfront with what you want so be patient. Emily is a baby deer. She needs time to come around. And if you really want to be with her, don't be such a….man-whore. _It had only been around six months since they had started sleeping together, and Emily had been pregnant for four of those months. He did kind of get it.

So that was how Mick Rawson found himself once again at Emily's apartment at night, on the opposite side of Emily's sofa, eating Chinese with her.

"Gwyneth?" He suggested and Emily shook her head.

"Paltrow."

"Olivia?"

"I like it, but is that a bit trendy?"

Mick looked up towards Emily's ceiling and contemplated the question. He didn't think so, but he was more into sports than pop culture. "I'd like her to have a British name if that's fine with you." Emily merely nodded to signal her agreement. She liked classic names. She wanted to use a name where her daughter could have any job and not sound _young_. "Effy?"

"Absolutely not," Emily almost choked on her broccoli.

"Not as her full name. It's for—"

"—I know what it's short for. Mick, I am _not _naming my baby after my mother."

Mick scratched his jaw at the problem. He did really like the name 'Effy.' Effy Prentiss-Rawson, "Elizabeth 'Effy' Prentiss-Rawson, it's the girl's last remaining gran."

"No," Emily bit back. She could get on board with the hyphen, but nothing else. "I'll give you Prentiss-Rawson, that's it. What about your mother's name?"

"My mum was called Nesta. It's a lovely name for Wales, but will give the poor girl a right kick in the arse here in the States."

"I'd sooner move to Wales and name her 'Nesta' than Elizabeth," Emily grumbled. Her persistent grumbling had earned a laugh from Mick.

"Would it kill ya to have an Elizabeth Prentiss you were close with?"

"I really like Meredith. What do you think?" Emily chose to ignore the valid question, prompting Mick to laugh.

"It's not 'Effy' but it's all right," Mick said as he leaned forward to put his half eaten box of shrimp on the coffee table. "Emily, why would you think I would make you feel guilty?"

"I thought you said you knew it wasn't your business?" Emily asked as she became even more tense. "That was months ago."

"What can I say, love? Your words run through my mind on the replay," He grinned before getting more serious again. "You told me some, but you didn't tell it all to me, did ya?"

Emily shook her head at the question, "Profilers."

"Go on then."

"It's complicated," Emily tentatively said. She nervously chewed on her bottom lip before hovering her fingers over her mouth to block it from Mick's view. The last thing she needed was for him to 'snog that nose.' For some reason, she couldn't quite explain in that moment, she had opted for honesty. "The guy was a new friend. He wasn't really my boyfriend, and it freaked him out."

"Must have been bloody terrifying."

"I was only fifteen," Emily admitted with a sigh, "I knew what I had to do. It was what I wanted to do, if I'm being honest. I didn't want to have a baby then. I knew that, but I needed someone there." Emily swallowed at the memory. She didn't have a great track record with people being there for her. "Matthew was my friend. He helped me find the doctor. He sat with me. He was always by my side. When the news came out to someone— He supported me. He made me feel like I mattered. Like it was okay that I had decided to make that decision." Mick just nodded at her words. "The whole experience, the response to it more than the actual abortion, it made him just stop believing in everything."

"In the church? In God?"

"Yeah," Emily inhaled sharply and shook her head at the memories. "We left. We moved on, and he fell into drugs."

Mick had been resting his arm on the back of the sofa, and moved to drop his head into his open hand, "Twenty-five years is a long time to feel guilty, innit?"

"I know logically…"

Mick focused his eyes on her, "But illogically?"

"There's still a part of me that wonders."

"You change completely from the person you were at fifteen," Mick stated in a gentle voice. "People change a lot, and so do beliefs. The church— You all were Catholic, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there are a lot of reasons to have doubts. His may have started with you, but we both know there can be a bit more _there_, right? It's simple to say: this happened and this was the result, but we never really know do we? His burdens, drink or drug or both, they were bigger than yours. Some people's just are; genetics and all that. Why you're here and he isn't, there is no reason or fault behind it. There isn't a point where you can point and say: 'If I had done this.' That's what makes the addiction so hard."

Emily nodded along at his words. She knew he was right. She knew other people probably would have told her the same things before, but she had always seen it as her own private burden. It was a cross that she alone could bear. "I can't stand profilers," She finally spoke with a small smile.

"Oh, I think you like me a little more than you let on," Mick said more than a little cocky.

"Remember what you told the tech earlier about me carrying a gun," She warned, but her smile contradicted her tone. "So…I met someone today."

Mick tilted his head in confusion, bathed in the soft light of one of Emily's table lamps. "That's it. I'm coming out of sniper retirement."

Emily found herself laughing at his slight jealously, "It actually is about that. I met a woman named Alex Blake. She works out of the D.C. field office."

"You met a woman? I like where this is headed. About to be a proper tidy tale."

"Shut up," Emily scolded and leaned forward for a playful swat at the man. "Anyway, I was thinking of bringing her on to cover me during my maternity leave, but for just a quick second I thought about recommending you," Emily laughed. "It wouldn't be a good fit—"

"—No," Mick agreed a little too quickly.

"We could do worse?" Emily ventured carefully. "You don't have the right skill set, but you'd do well with the team. It'd drive Garcia crazy. I know she's married, but JJ too. Let's be honest."

Mick shrugged, "I don't go into the field anymore."

It had been meant to be an off-hand comment, but the tension in Mick's shoulders led her to believe that something else was there. "Something happened to you?" Emily more told than asked the man.

He took a few seconds to debate whether or not to tell her, but since she had told him about Italy, he felt he should return the favor. _Open up to her: _that's another thing the Oracle had told him. "Red cell was bloody fantastic, don't get me wrong. It was a struggle to be in the field. It reminded me of being in the field before."

"In Fallujah?"

"How did you know?"

"Profiler," Emily had simply shrugged. Sure enough, it was enough of an explanation for him.

"Right, well, you know how things were post-9/11 attacks. I'd get a list— Almost like a shop list. Kill list, what it is. Shooters shoot."

Emily took a deep breath at the statement, completely understanding what he was getting at, "Yeah."

"I was in Fallujah with Sam. Thought we had eyes on one of the pricks. Got it all confirmed. Turns out it was the wrong man."

"It happens," Emily soothed in a quiet voice.

"It does," Mick nodded and avoided eye contact. He focused on peeling the label from his water bottle instead. "We get another assignment. I go up top. It's all done up, but I hesitate. Arsehole detonates. That little fucker killed four soldiers— Four good guys...It happens. You'll say it, and I know it. Sam brought me on, but every time I go into the field I just can't forget it. Was able to get past it, until I'm back in it."

"Yeah."

"I thought counterterrorism would be fucking hell," He laughed and ran his hands through his hair. "When we got the sack I thought it would be like a death, eh? It let me leave the past in the past. Let me make my peace with it, without it being brought up everyday. It's a bit frustrating though because I was quite good at it."

"You were," Emily admitted softly.

"Had a woman hung up on me for years 'cause of it." He had winked, earning a gagging sound from Emily. "So, no, I won't be your 86th minute time-wasting sub. Thank you for offering," He finished sarcastically. The two had just sat with each other and traded a few genuine smiles before a yawn Emily wasn't able to suppress had prompted him to check his watch. It was already 10:30. "I should let you get all tucked up. Watch a bit of _Homes Under The Hammer._"

"Yeah," Emily admitted as she followed him off the sofa and walked him to her front door. "I should get ready for bed."

The two hugged by the front door, and Mick spoke up after inhaling the smell of Emily's hair. "Your hair smells absolutely lovely."

"It's because I wash my hair," Emily whispered back into his ear. "You should try it sometime."

Mick pulled back with a shocked look on his face and pointed to his head, "I do wash my hair. Paid thirty quid for this product."

"You should ask for your money back then," She playfully advised and fluffed his hair. "Thanks for coming over."

And just like that the night had ended, with Emily a little more confident she could send her daughter home with Mick Rawson.


	12. Future Key

**Two month time jump. **

**We will all die of boredom if I have to write 9 months worth of pregnancy. **

"Okay—" Garcia began as she and Morgan walked towards the cluster of BAU desks they normally congregated around, stopping just short. "—How are they not a couple?" She asked as they had observed how Mick leaned against a six-month-pregnant Emily Prentiss's desk while the two were deep in conversation. The two dark-haired parents were so consumed with each other they didn't even noticed they were being watched. Morgan and Garcia had assumed it was something baby-related, that was until Emily laughed at Mick, who feigned innocence at whatever she had just called him out about, and playfully pushed his chest. His disposition seemed to soften when he pinned a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her a quick poke on the nose. It had looked playful and comfortable in a way that the two had never seen Emily around a man before.

"I don't know baby girl—"

"—'We're just two acquaintances getting to know each other for the sake of our child,'" Garcia interrupted Morgan off by imitating Emily. "She is _so_ cute. Takes three minutes to scare off the wrong guys, but three years to admit she likes the 'right' ones. I have to laugh," Garcia laughed with a slight facepalm.

"They spend a lot of time together," Morgan commented as he stared at the two. Garcia was right, they did seem really close. "She hardly meets up with us for drinks anymore."

"Well, she really can't right now," Garcia laughed. She knew what Morgan meant though. Emily had spent a lot of her free time with Mick. It was either doctors' appointments with Mick or just being with Mick. She was on the phone with Mick, or at her apartment with Mick, or at the store with Mick. Then again, Garcia thought that was normal, ideal even. She wanted one of her best friends to be happy. She wanted her to have a life outside of the BAU. She deserved a happy personal life. She deserved a chance to work out if she could make it work with the father of her child. "We're not losing her," Garcia finally spoke up in a soothing tone.

Morgan had replied back a little too quickly, "I didn't say I missed her!"

"But you miss her. Don't you?" Garcia asked in a gentle tone. "Emster is your partner. You two hung out a lot in your spare time, especially last year."

"Yeah."

"This whole 'getting to know each other' thing won't last forever," Garcia assured. "They're just trying to find their footing as a couple. Or in Emily's case, trying to admit they're a couple. Either way, we still see JJ all the time!"

"Yeah, you're right," Morgan smiled. The technical analyst had grown to know him so well. The fact was that he and Prentiss were lone-wolves, who happened to be 'lone' together. Rossi was a serial dater. Hotch had Jack and Beth. JJ had Will and Henry. Spence had his hobbies and possibly a girl of his own— Morgan wasn't sure on that. Garcia would sometimes join them, but when she had Kevin a lot of the time it was just him and Emily together, blowing off steam. They would hit up the bars. They would train together. It was kind of similar to his friendship with Elle, even though they had yet to go on vacation together. Penelope Garcia, JJ, and Emily Prentiss were the constant female presences in his life beside his family, who he just so happened to never see. Morgan wondered if maybe it was time to stop using the girls as a crutch and get himself a girlfriend. Just as he was about to open up to Garcia about the idea, JJ had walked up to them and had begun talking about Henry's newfound opposition to the Halloween. The commotion had lured Emily and Mick over to the group.

"What's up?" Emily asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We're a nosy pair," Mick admitted with a laugh, standing right behind the brunette.

Garcia had greeted the two with a "Heya sugar plum and _Pride and Prejudice._"

"I'm not English. I'm—"

"—Welsh," Garcia, Emily, Reid and Morgan all finished for the man.

JJ sighed, thinking back to Henry, and opted not to recount the entire story. She was sure Emily and Mick would pick up on what the problem was. They were both profilers for God's sake, "Henry doesn't want to celebrate halloween."

"Aw, too bad," Emily soothed lamely as she rubbed her hand on JJ's arm.

"Emily!" JJ scolded

Emily jerked back her hand a little confused, "What?"

"You're supposed to care about this stuff now."

"I said aw," Emily defended, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

"Heard her say it," Mick added.

Emily pointed up towards Mick. "See."

"He can come to our forced screening of some bloody science fiction film," Mick offered before he gave Emily a teasing smile. "That will be its own horror show."

The brunette turned around to glare at Mick. "Oh, shut up." However, the way she had noticed and then gently brushed off the wrinkles on the shoulder of his black jacket betrayed the dirty look she had just shot him. Just then a look of realization spread across her features as she turned back to the group who had been intently watching her, "Oh! He can come to dinner next time Mother is in town."

"That's too much horror, Em," JJ laughed. "That's the problem!"

Mick and Emily had shared a glance that looked like a silent joke, which the rest of the group also noticed, before Emily spoke again. "Well, the offer still stands."

"You want to use my son as your own human shield," JJ accused with another laugh.

"He's very cute."

"Use your own baby."

Before the group knew it the brief moment of levity had ended. Sure enough, it was time to head to the next case. However, before JJ, Morgan, Reid, and Garcia did, they looked back right at the perfect moment. Emily and Mick had shared a quick but tender hug, and he had pressed a fast kiss to her temple. It wasn't exactly PDA, but it was intimate nonetheless. It looked like a habit. Oddly enough, Emily hadn't fidgeted or squirmed away, which they would have expected in any other situation. The group had concluded that it was such a habit that she didn't even seem to realize it would be of interest to anyone. Mick didn't have any apprehension. Then again, he never did. But the key was Emily's behavior.

At the sight, Garcia had just turned to JJ and whispered, "So this is what she meant by 'friendly parents.'"

"My thoughts exactly," JJ laughed. "We're 'acquittances,' my ass."

* * *

After the case had ended, JJ had invited Emily to go trick-or-treating with her, Henry, Reid, and Garcia. And while Emily was touched by the invitation, and loved seeing Henry in his little 'Spencer Reid' costume, she wanted to keep to her plans of watching a Sci-Fi movie with Mick. It had taken a birthday and a few reminders that she was carrying his child to get him to agree. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of bailing.

She had made her way from the kitchen to the front door at the sound of his knocks. Her apartment had been entirely dark aside from a bit of warm light coming from the kitchen. Her living room had a blue hue, colored by the light emanating from the DVD player's 'menu screen' on her T.V. The apartment was abnormally cold for October, with Emily still using her air conditioning because of her recent baby-related shift in temperature.

"I got it," He had greeted cheerfully as soon as she let him in, holding the DVD in the air. As part of their agreement, Emily had provided the pizza and Mick was supposed to get to pick the movie.

"I'm shocked you didn't 'forget it,'" Emily teased with air quotes before she walked back to the kitchen to grab them some napkins.

"I'm insulted you would think I would try that. As requested one science fiction film. Planet of the Apes, starring…Mark Wahlberg," He added at the last second.

"Mick!" She chastised him and rushed into her living room. "That is the worst one!"

"Don't I know it," He smirked and pressed a kiss to her cheek, which she essentially ignored to grab the DVD case out of his hands to confirm her own personal horror.

She animatedly scoffed when she looked at the cover. "Oh, come on!"

"Give it a chance, love."

"I have a bunch of other—"

"—No," He cut her off with a laugh. "You were the one to pick the genre. I get to pick the movie. That was the rule. Don't you want to teach baby Prentiss-Rawson to keep her word, eh?"

"No," Emily grumbled and sat down on her sofa with her arms crossed. This was just so typical of Mick Rawson. He was the worst man ever. "I should've had a baby with Reid or Morgan is what I should have done. This is supposed to be my late birthday gift— Which I didn't even tell you about— and you ruin it. Don't even think about sitting right next to me." Of course, he had sat right next to her.

The two had finished their pizza and were about halfway through the movie when she had groaned "This is terrible" for the fourth time.

"Bloody awful," Mick turned to smirk at her.

"You did this on purpose."

"If I have to suffer so do you. It's only fair," He teased with a smile.

The movie was so terrible. She internally vowed she would never do another movie night with Mick Rawson again, that honor would stay reserved for her teammates. However, due to his taste in awful movies, Emily had found herself watching him instead of the movie the entire time. There was just something about his smile. It made her feel…It was the hormones. _It was the hormones. It was the hormones._ She repeated the sentence over and over again in her head. "Do you have dimples?" She finally allowed herself to ask, unable to quite make out in the dark living room if he did or not. She had seen his smile near a hundred times over the past few months, but she hadn't allowed herself to remember it.

"Maybe not as nice as yours, but I can if you want me to," He had offered with that same, stupid, smug, egotistical smile.

"Shut up."

He ignored her and nodded over towards Mark Wahlberg instead, "Aren't you supposed to be watching the tele instead of me?"

Emily raised a single eyebrow at his question and dropped her voice an octave, "Is that what you want?"

"Absolutely not," He remarked and turned to press his lips against hers. She had responded, and moved her hands to run through his hair to the back of his head. It hard started slow, but then there had been tongue. She had quickly found herself straddling him as their kissing had become more frantic. It was definitely easier when she wasn't pregnant. Mick moved to kiss and nip at her neck, and she found herself almost giggling at the affection while she took to unbuttoning his shirt. "You're so bloody gorgeous."

Emily rolled her eyes at the compliment and breathlessly replied, "More so when I wasn't pregnant."

"Hm," Mick stopped kissing her neck and took a minute to pretend to think, "I disagree." Mick slightly leaned upward to help Emily push off his white button-up shirt, and then moved to take off Emily's ratty old Yale t-shirt, himself. "You've been driving me fucking mad for so long," Mick admitted as Emily repositioned herself on top of his body.

"Me too," She admitted with a sigh, unguarded. "It must be the hormones…" She trailed off as he started to kiss under her jaw and move his hands up her sides towards her bra strap, before she spoke up. "Mick..." She shivered before clearing her throat. "Mick—"

He jumped at the shift in her tone. "—Are you okay? What has happened?"

"Nothing," She shook her head. She didn't want him to worry they had done anything to hurt her. "Are we doing something stupid?"

"Bloody hell, I hope so," He replied with a wink, staring at her cleavage.

"Shut up, I mean it," She laughed and lightly hit him on the abdomen. "I wanted to," She said a little more quietly.

Mick sighed and dropped his head back on the sofa's armrest, "If you say _but_ I'm going to cry."

"Mick—"

"—The tears are coming."

"And you're not," Emily teased with a smile that quickly dissipated after she moved off him. "I—It's not that you did anything I didn't like. I really want this. You wouldn't believe how much I've wanted…" She trailed off a little embarrassed. "But not right now. We have to take it slow."

Mick groaned in frustration. "Can we go any slower?"

"I'm pregnant so, yeah," Emily reminded with a shake of her head, which was meant to conceal her small smile. "We've only known each other—"

"—Eight months," He finished with a tired chuckle.

"But we've only been talking for six."

"And we flirted two-and-a-half years ago on a case," Mick reminded and moved up to kiss the tip of her nose.

Emily inadvertently let out a giggle at the move. "And we flirted two-and-a-half years ago on a case," She repeated with a dry voice. "It's still really fast considering we're having a baby together."

"Right," He had accepted, his voice unintentionally laced with a little exhaustion and a lot of disappointment. The credits had begun to roll on both the movie and the duo's conversation.

And that was when Emily even surprised herself when she had said it. "You don't have to go home tonight."

Mick's eyes lit up at the invitation. "I don't, eh?"

"You can sleep on my sofa."

"Now you've completely you've lost the plot," Mick argued back with a laugh, dramatically dropping his head back again.

"Fine," Emily relented when she got off the sofa, before she turned around to narrow her eyes at the man. "You better stay on your side…or else. My body is officially the Bermuda Triangle. Any piece of you that touches it disappears forever, got it? And you better put your shirt back on for bed."

"You're mad! You're making me wear a button-up to bed?"

"Yes."

"You're the one who took my top off!"

She didn't even bother to turn around from her place in the hallway to answer the very true claim. "I don't remember that. Doesn't sound like me."

Mick shook his head and excitedly jumped off the sofa to jog behind the woman. "I knew you'd fall for me."

"I have not fallen for you," She scoffed.

"Full arse-over-tits."

"Mmm say 'tits' again," Emily demanded in a husky voice, and turned around to flash a taunting grin at Mick.

"You're very naughty. You're doing this on purpose, absolute cruel woman you are," Mick complained as he followed her into the bedroom.

* * *

It was around five the next morning when the ringing disrupted the dark, silent room. Mick had temporary forgotten where he was and moved to grab the phone that was charging on 'his' bedside table. "Rawson," He sleepily answered in such a low tone Emily didn't even stir next to him.

"Finally!" Garcia squealed on the other end of the line.

"Fucking hell," Mick murmured and pulled the loud, offending phone away from his ear, waking up Emily in the process.

"Mick, what are you doing?"

Mick had ignored the brunette's question. He had found himself just awake enough to play around with her. He would typically want his pregnant maybe-friend, maybe-more to get as much rest as she needed, but it was obvious she had to work so why not have a little fun.

"No, Penelope, tragically she was a bloody tease all night long."

"Crap," Garcia huffed. This was typical Emily.

"Imagine how heartbroken I was."

"Mick, give me my phone," Emily demanded and outstretched her hand. The last thing she needed was those two meddling idiots talking again.

Around half an hour later Emily was showered and dressed to go to Florida. Mick, of course, was still half-asleep so he hadn't really done anything for her besides hand her a banana, but it was nice. It was nice to have a rumpled looking man with bed head wishing her good luck with the case. While in the shower she had given more thought to his earlier questions, about a baby needing to be with their mother. It wasn't as if having Mick Rawson around was completely horrible. He was surprisingly respectful of her boundaries. That was probably the most unexpected thing about him.

"Maybe I should make you a key," Emily called out as she put on her boots in the living room.

Mick let out a yawn and hunched over on her kitchen counter. She didn't have any coffee in her apartment, and he was having a real problem waking up without it. "Are you asking me to move in? I'm touched."

"Don't push it," Emily warned with a chuckle as he made his way into the room. "It would be after she's born. Just to make it easier to see her. If I'm away and one night you want to come over to put her to bed and watch her instead of a nanny. Stuff like that. You would have to call first."

"If I phone you first, why do I need the key?" Mick questioned with a smug look. He had her there.

"What if I'm asleep? I might just shoot you."

"You want me to phone you to wake you so I can use the key you've already given me?" Mick questioned incredulously. "I'll take some notes," He said in a serious voice and walked to grab the pad and pen always left on the table by the door. "Wake sleeping baby by phoning Emily—"

"—You're so annoying," Emily laughed in a volume that was way too loud for five thirty in the morning. Before she was ready to leave she gave Mick a hug and then, suddenly, felt compelled to give him a gentle kiss on the lips before she grabbed her bag. It was soft and chaste, and it made them both feel like maybe all of this was an unorthodox beginning to something special. "I'll make you a key, but you're not getting mine so you have to get out now since I'm leaving."

"For Christ's sake," Mick groaned and scratched at his scruff to try to cover a smile. Emily Prentiss could ask anything of him and somehow get away with it. Even throwing him out at 5:30 in the morning because she didn't trust him to make a key.


	13. I'll Allow It

**This is a 'feelings' chapter and it's LONG. **

**I didn't think I could break it up and didn't want to write a filler chapter just to put the last scene in. Now we're pretty much done setting things up. **

* * *

Of course, it had to be one of her last cases.

Of course.

The team had just come off of working five cases in a single month. It had averaged out to be more than one a week, and they felt it. They were all exhausted, completely spent, especially the team member who was seven-and-a-half months pregnant. Emily had two weeks left before she was due to go on maternity leave, and then Maeve had been kidnapped.

Emily had never seen Reid like that before. Even at the height of his drug addiction, he had never seemed so frazzled. His mind was completely cluttered.

It was difficult to watch.

It was difficult to see him like that.

It was also difficult to be reminded of what it was like to be hunted and to be held captive in some abandoned space, desperately hoping to be found, but questioning if anyone would. Normally, Emily left a distance between her and cases. The Piano Man case in Houston had shattered that distance, and so had this case. It had been times like those where she, selfishly, wished she had told Clyde 'yes.' Times where she wished she would have asked Mick to just move back to London with her and walked away. It made her feel selfish. She felt she should be there for Spencer.

She felt even more guilty when he had picked her to do his cognitive interview. It was a sign. It was a sign he had trusted her, and that once again they had grown close. The space between them had closed. He didn't ask JJ, who Emily would have expected in spite of her relative inexperience. He didn't ask Morgan, despite their brotherly relationship. He didn't pick Rossi despite his experience. He didn't pick Hotch, although the young man had gone to him first. He had picked _her_.

All his old wounds about Doyle had finally closed up, but hers hadn't.

She had taken him to play chess. It was similar to how she had first met him nearly eight years prior, except entirely different because of the worst possible reasons. And then she had to just sit and listen. She couldn't go into the field. She couldn't pursue leads. She had to stay behind with Garcia, feeling like a spectator all over again. That had been one of the hardest parts about being captured by Doyle: waiting. She had just sat there with Doyle, stalling and hoping. There she had found herself again, sitting there, her fingers resting on her stomach, hoping. And that time hope didn't work.

Maeve died.

* * *

Garcia thought that it felt like one of those nights where it should have snowed, or at least rained. It was too perfect, too beautiful outside for a night like that. Droplets of rain should've stained her glasses and water should've sloshed around in Rossi's leather boots. Thunder and lightening should have disrupted the night sky and reminded every living soul how hostile and unpredictable the world could be. But instead that night was perfect.

It was around 1am when she and Emily had shuffled into the BAU parking lot. Garcia had told Emily that it was so late and it was fine for her to go home, but she just couldn't. And Garcia was glad about it when her phone rung and it was JJ on the line.

Because JJ was upset, and she needed comfort to be able to comfort Reid. For Garcia to comfort JJ, she would need comfort from Derek, who was understandably busy with Reid. It was a twisted chain of pain caused by the parade of unsubs who had crashed through and subsequently broken their lives. It was a chain that would end with the brunette to her right. So Garcia passed over the phone because it was JJ and she was crying, and Emily was the only one who always knew what to say. She knew it was an impossible position to put Emily in. It was unfair because despite the way her posture somehow remained perfectly straight and her stride was still long, Emily was _really_ pregnant. She was pregnant and exhausted, but Garcia handed her phone over anyway because pregnant Emily Prentiss was still Emily Prentiss.

Of course, Emily had taken the phone and lied with such ease because she knew both blondes needed to hear anything but the truth. So she told them Spencer was strong— but Emily wasn't sure _how strong_. She told the blondes that he would get better and not necessarily fall back into drugs— but Emily wasn't sure about that either. She told them that even if he did they would deal with it, and that it wouldn't be the end of the world— but she knew what happened to Matthew so that was a lie, too.

Reid understandably, expectedly, was a mess. JJ and Morgan had stayed with him in his tiny observation room while he was checked out. Rossi and Hotch had paced around the hallway, on guard. Emily had just sat in the waiting room, letting Garcia go in alone because she knew the technical analyst had to see him. Emily wasn't sure if it was the hormones, or the situation, or the memories, or a combination of the three, but she found herself desperately trying to wish away tears and paw at her face to keep them from falling. She felt selfish for getting emotional at a time when it was about Reid. A time when he needed her.

"You okay?" Morgan had gently asked. Emily's eyes were trained on his feet, but he knew something was wrong. She had looked about as rough as she did the day Matthew Benton had died. Morgan always had a protective instinct about him. It had become even more palpable when she had almost died. Her getting pregnant had only made it worse.

"Yeah, this job just…It just takes and takes from you," Emily whispered back. It wasn't the job that had left Reid in that position. It just felt like it to her. She just felt defeated, and that— _that night— _was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Morgan had picked up on so much exhaustion in her voice, and that had worried him. She didn't look like the same Emily Prentiss in that moment. Morgan wondered if she couldn't hide the toll cases took on her any longer. Then again, she was nearly eight months pregnant. Morgan deduced that the woman was probably tired and emotional just because of her state, and the Maeve situation just made it worse. Guiltily, Morgan felt like he, and the rest of the team save for Hotch, had somehow forgotten along the way that she was pregnant. They forgot about the physical and mental cost having a baby was bound to take on her. "He'll be okay," Morgan offered fairly weakly. It was a lie, but he was sure she needed to hear it as much as he did. Maybe someone needed to lie to comfort her for a change. "What can I do?"

Emily sighed and wiped the emotion from her eyes before she got up. That fact that Morgan had been out there talking with her meant that she had a chance to give Reid a hug. To lie some more. To lie to him and tell him he'd be 'okay.' To tell him that no matter what he would get through it. All the things she didn't know be true, and she was sure he wouldn't believe even if they were. "I'm going to talk to Spencer. Can you— Could you call Mick for me? I came with Garcia, maybe he could take me home?" Emily asked as she handed Morgan her unlocked phone.

Morgan found himself shocked at the request and merely nodded as he watched her retreating figure. It had felt like an out-of-the-blue request. The team was so insular the only outside comforter was sometimes Will, and even he didn't get 'the call' most of the time. However, it was what she had wanted, and Morgan was happy to oblige.

Mick had picked up right away. Morgan could hear in the man's voice that he was sleepy, but still nervous nonetheless. "Emily? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

"It's Morgan— Uh, Derek Morgan," Morgan introduced himself, quick to get the next string of words out as fast as possible. He would have imagined that any man finding out his pregnant…acquaintance? Morgan wasn't sure what the two were to each other. But anyway, he was sure that any man getting a 1:30am phone call about the mother of his child, who also happened to be an FBI Agent, would worry. "Emily is fine. She's completely okay, but there was an incident with Spencer Reid."

Mick sat up in bed and roughly rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "Incident?"

"His…girlfriend…" Morgan wasn't sure what Reid and Maeve were either. Why did all his friends, beside JJ, have to have the most confusing relationships? "His girlfriend was killed. We're at the hospital. Emily is completely fine. She was at the BAU all day."

"She's at hospital not in hospital," Mick let out of a sigh of relief. "How did she get there?"

"She came with Garcia, but she wanted to know if you could pick her up and take her home. If you can't it's cool. I know none of us would mind—"

"—Right," Mick cut the man off and immediately got out of bed. "No, it's all right. I have a key to her flat. I know where she keeps her spare. I'll get the car, pick her up. I'd rather be the one to do it anyway. Thanks for letting me know."

"No problem. Bye, man," Morgan responded and hung up the call. _So Princess gave you a key_ Morgan thought to himself with an eye roll. What a close pair of acquaintances!

By the time JJ was finally ready to leave, Mick had shown up. It hadn't exactly been a _minor_ pain in the ass, what Emily had requested of him. First, he had to use his key to her apartment to find her spare car key set. Then, he had to ride his motorcycle down to the BAU to pick up her car. Finally, he had to go all the way back to D.C. to pick her up the hospital. All at around 1:30 in the morning. Subsequently, Emily found herself a little surprised that he met her with a warm embrace and thanked her for calling him.

JJ, meanwhile, had just watched the two from afar. Mick had actually been waiting outside for the brunette. As soon as she came out, he had given Emily a hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead. JJ had watched on as it looked like Emily had played with the hair at the nape of his neck for a few seconds. He had then actually held her hand as they walked to the car, and Emily had actually let him. Of all of the terrible things Jennifer Jareau had seen the day before, and there were a lot of them, at least one of her friends had seemed to end up relatively happy. Maybe there was hope for Spencer Reid after all.

* * *

Just like the interior of Emily's car, the streets of D.C. were silent. The roads were completely clear. There was no traffic to speak of. The city was so dead it felt as if each street light could burn out and no one would even notice. Emily thought about Reid and love all the way home.

"Thanks again, Emily," Mick had told her as they walked through her apartment door.

"Thank you for coming to get me. I'm sorry it was such a—"

"—No," Mick immediately cut her off with a shake of his head. "Nah, I would've worried otherwise. You did me a favor. You can always phone me."

"About the baby," Emily absentmindedly agreed as she walked off towards her bedroom.

"Her too, but I meant you," Mick offered with a small shrug. There had been no cocky smile, no banter, no smug grin. "I would've worried about you."

There was something about the simple, sweet comment that made her snake her arms around Mick's neck and kiss him. It had been gentle and languid, but not because she was tired. She just felt that the moment had meant _something_, and she didn't want to rush through it. Neither of them did.

When they pulled apart he quietly told her. "I love you."

Emily had thought about the three words and then replied with a genuine smile, "…Okay."

"Okay?" His wide grin contradicted the faux-outrage in his voice.

"I'll allow it," She had deadpanned.

Mick couldn't help but laugh at the woman. "You are such a fucking tosser." It was said to mock her, but the look in his eyes told her he had understood. She wasn't ready.

She wasn't ready because— and perhaps in one of the most shocking things about the occasionally moody, mostly surly Emily Prentiss— she was a bit of a secret romantic. She secretly believed in love, and that was why she had endured the decades of terrible dates and inferior detectives flirting with her on cases. And that was why, because Emily had lived everywhere and read everything, she knew all the great love stories of the world. She had read about Lancelot and Guinevere while in England. She had read about Orpheus and Eurydice while in Greece. She had read about Paolo and Francesca in Rome. She had read about Layla and Majnun in Egypt. The connecting pattern that a young Emily Prentiss had picked up on was that great loves were birthed out of tragedy. Maybe in that way Spencer Reid had one.

As she looked over toward the man standing so impossibly close to her, Emily wondered if she didn't. Because nothing with Mick Rawson had been tragic, and she was eternally grateful for that. She was grateful that she had wanted to be a mother for years, and it happened somewhere along the way thanks to the obnoxious, unrefined man stood in front of her. The man who, unlike Emily, had always made sure every hair was out of place. The man who was arrogant and only read crime novels written by Dennis Lehane. The man who threw his clothes everywhere and scarfed meals down, and owned exactly one-tenth of the suits she did. That man who had somehow found a way to worm his way into her life forever. Somewhere along the way Mick Rawson had become one of the most important people in her life, and not in just the perfunctory way because he was the father of her child. He had become a trusted friend, a companion in the true sense of the word. Emily wondered if maybe the father of her daughter wasn't a 'great love,' and she found that oddly comforting. Because Emily Prentiss had lived everywhere and read everything, and great loves were birthed out of great tragedy. She had wanted nothing between her and Mick to ever constitute as a "tragedy."

In the end, whatever he truly meant to her didn't matter, because she was back to kissing him anyway. Soon enough, they had found themselves in her bed, again. She felt his cocky grin against her bare skin as he kissed down her body, lingering near her waist and testing to see if he could remove the pair of pants. "Is it all right if I do this then? You'll be okay?"

"Yeah…It's good," She breathed out, immediately distracted as his kisses had drifted down to her bare inner thigh and over. It was different than the other times they had gone to bed together. First of all, she wasn't insulting him. She had allowed herself to moan and gasp at every movement his mouth made. Her fingers didn't pull at his hair roughly, lovingly massaging his scalp as a 'thank you' instead.

Second, she had finally allowed herself to appreciate the way he looked. Once he had moved back up her body after she had climaxed, she had lazily tried to take off his shirt and push down his underwear. He was fit, built, but he wasn't overly muscly. His chest had just enough hair. It wasn't waxed. He didn't look like a bodybuilder.

Mick had helped her get on her side and moved behind her, but then he didn't do anything. His lack of action had surprised her, and prompted her to look back at him, confused. She was too tired to have this take all night.

"I don't have a condom," Mick had answered her, a little disappointed.

"Do you ever?" Emily had tiredly laughed. She had felt relaxed and a lot better than she had even a half-hour prior. "It's a little late for that now anyway."

"That's right, eh?" Mick had grinned.

"Wait—" She stopped him before he could move any further.

"Will it hurt you?"

"No," She answered and gingerly ran her hands over the forearms he had draped over her body. "Have you been tested? Are you...good?"

Mick laughed at the question. "Yes, Emily, I am free of sexual diseases." He shook his head and let out another chuckle, his head resting on her shoulder.

"And infections?" Now she was just messing with him.

"I have them all," He lied and kissed the back of her head.

"Have you slept with any women since?"

That question had elicited a cackle from the man while he kissed below her ear. "Not that it is any of your bloody business since you _very frequently _made me aware of the fact we were not together, but no. I would definitely like to sleep with you now, if _that_ is allowable."

And that explanation was enough for her. She let out a strangled moan after he finally moved inside her. He had checked a couple more times to make sure he wasn't hurting her. Each time it became more and more difficult to answer over her heavy breathing. The night of 'new' had continued. Whereas all the times before had been frantic and passionate, this was more intimate and comfortable. It had been slow, but had also ended relatively quickly because they were both exhausted.

"That was really good. It was really nice," Emily sighed contently a few orgasms later. She was too tired for her usual playful jabs. "I think I'm ready to go on maternity leave."

Mick was surprised by the statement, "That so?" Emily just nodded in reply and ran her fingers over his chest. "One out of ten, how bored do you think you'll be?"

Emily laughed at the question, "Eleven."

"Better than I thought. Would've put you at a twenty."

She quietly chuckled at his prediction. "You know JJ's husband asked her to be a stay-at-home mom once."

"Did he really?" Mick questioned disbelievingly before he let out of laugh, "What an ungodly man."

"You would never ask that of me, for all your flaws," Emily remarked, without really paying attention to the compliment she had given him.

"Can't detect a single one."

"Mhmm," She agreed sarcastically before kissing him again on the side of his mouth. She had moved to tracing her fingers over the upper part of his back. "Maybe you should stay here? After she's born. Not for very long—"

"—I already spend more time here than my own flat," He challenged a little smugly, pointing out she had taken to him a while ago.

"And I've finally changed my mind about throwing you out." Her dry remark had made them both laugh.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because…" She drawled out with an eye roll, "I like having you around, occasionally...You can sleep on the couch."

"The couch?" He fake-gasped in horror. "How can I do this for you then?" He asked as he ran his fingers up and down the side of her breast.

"Mm, you can get hour-long visits when I feel like it," Emily said seriously, before her grin gave her away.

"You are very naughty."

"I do what I can," Emily chuckled and let out a relaxed breath when he kissed her temple. He reached up to brush his hand near her clavicle, careful to avoid where her branding scar was. "You're always careful to avoid it," Emily quietly remarked and closed her eyes. She found herself slightly comforted when his hand moved to cup her cheek.

"Didn't want to overstep."

"That'd be the only time," Emily had laughed, but it had been a sad laugh.

"I thought it might be associated. I thought tonight might be too," Mick offered. "One day your photo was on _the wall. _Now it's not."

Emily sighed at the statement. She knew exactly what he had meant. One day she had been dead, the next she was alive. "Were you actually sad when you thought so?"

"I was," Mick said in a quiet, contemplative voice as she sat up in bed. "I was sad. I always liked you. And now? I'd be absolutely gutted now…" He admitted with a deep breath. "You know what Sam said to me once? He said he had his ghosts, but he trained his ghosts to fly in formation." Emily chuckled at the comment. "We all have 'em, gotta make peace with them existing, eh?"

She bit her bottom lip, which had become her most prominent nervous tick after pregnancy healed her nails, and tentatively spoke. "Do you know who Ian Doyle was?" Mick just shook his head 'no.' "He was an Irish arms dealer. After 9/11, well...It was, as you would say, the whole world went 'tits up.' Our intelligence agencies— the C.I.A. mostly— were worried what he would be selling and who he would be selling 'what' to. He really moved up the watchlist he had been on since the 90's. The agency got an idea that it should be a joint intelligence mission with a few allies. Instead of trying to clean up the messes he left, they would profile him to guess his next move—"

"—That's where you came in."

Emily nodded, "That's where I came in, at first. We came up with a profile, from that we learned that the best way to track him was infiltration. It had to be a romantic partner. Out of me and the other female agent on the team, Tsia, it was Lauren Reynolds."

Mick's expression softened at the uncertainty in her voice, "Except Lauren Reynolds had your face."

"Yeah," She let out of a sad chuckle. "Yeah, she did." Emily felt completely self-conscious in the moment, but Mick didn't seem to change his facial expressions once. They didn't shift from concern to judgment or disgust. "Somehow, I still don't know how, he got out…"

"He went after you." He had moved to support his head in his left hand. His eyes completely trained on her.

"I went to him." Emily swallowed a bit of the leftover emotion from the memory. She wagered that piece of her life would never be completely emotionless. "Someone on our team sold us out. He— He was killed anyway. I don't know what he expected. He knew the profile."

"Absolute psychopath?"

"Putting it nicely," Emily laughed bitterly. "He had them all killed. Everyone who was involved with his arrest. All their families…" Emily drifted off and closed her eyes again, tensing her jaw. "He waited for me, though...I still remember savoring it. Walking out of the BAU and trying to remember all their faces because I was resigned to my fate. Whatever happened would happen. Hopefully I would win, but maybe I wouldn't."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

The room felt a little colder after his question. Without noticing, Emily found herself shifting her legs closer to his. "He had sentenced me to death for my sins. I couldn't sentence anyone else to it too."

"That's very catholic of you."

It was a bit of levity she had been grateful for. The smallest of jokes to lighten the dark mood that had enveloped the room immediately after she had started talking. "I grew up very catholic."

"And the sins?"

"He waited because I knew something no one else did. He had a son. I had faked his death, sent him away. Doyle thought he was dead. They— "We"— had…um…they used the pictures of his son's 'death' to get him to talk. He knew it was me. It couldn't have been anyone else. So he was the one who gave me the scars and put me on the wall. That wasn't the worst part, though, being branded or stabbed."

"The fear was?" Mick insightfully asked.

"Yeah," Emily sighed. "I take pain over fear any time. It was the pure terror of waiting. Well, that and I tried to save Tsia. I guess he knew Emily Prentiss better than I thought he did."

"He killed her."

"He knew exactly where I told her to go. I remember seeing her face after he did it. She looked…She looked more peaceful than I had seen her in months," Emily admitted sadly. With Doyle it was never just the kills. It was the psychological toll that got him off. Like Mick had said, it was the fear.

"You saved the boy."

"Yeah." She didn't go into how she got occasional updates from Tom about how well they were doing. Or how Declan learned how to ride a bike without being slapped by Doyle. Or how he was sweet and cried when the other boys in school would try to stomp on snails, and Tom didn't berate or try to 'toughen him up' like his biological father would have. All she could get out in that moment was "yeah." And it had been enough for Mick.

Mick moved to speak into the crook of her neck, and rubbed his lightly calloused fingers up and down her arm. "They always say how important the assignment is, how they are 'necessary evils.' It is all those things, but that doesn't mean it's easy to be the one who does it."

"No, it doesn't," She quietly replied. "I had to talk to someone after the stabbing. She told me that Emily Prentiss did die. _That_ Emily Prentiss died a long time ago. Ian Doyle took that person from me, and when I came back I wasn't the same person…I wanted to be. I got the fresh start at the BAU. I put on this image. Then, one day, it had all come crumbling around me. I finally was confronted with who I really am."

"And who is that?"

Emily took a minute to think about the question. It was the first time anyone had ever really asked that of her. It was the first time someone had asked _her _who she was instead of telling her. Her therapist told her. Her mother told her. Even her friends, with only love and the best intentions, they told her, too. "I'm the Emily Prentiss who went undercover."

"And saved a little lad."

Emily smiled at the little addition, "It's hard to grieve that version of myself, and process the things Ian did to me— The things he had me do. It's hard to do that in front of an audience."

Mick nodded against her, "They mean well, eh?"

"They're a loving audience," Emily laughed before she got quiet again. "Sometimes, I wish I could have a fresh start."

"You can," Mick reminded. Her silence had signaled that part of the conversation had ended. She had told him enough. "You think Reid will be all right?"

Emily inhaled sharply at the question, "I hope so. I don't know."

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

Mick intently stared at the woman, her face illuminated by some of the moonlight that had seeped in. "You said before you were worried about being a good mum. I need you to know that was a bloody stupid question."

A smile spread across her face. "Hey, Mick?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how I was a C.I.A. operative who went undercover?"

"Mhm," He answered, getting progressively more sleepy.

Emily leaned over to whisper into his ear in a husky voice, "That means, between both of us, I'm the Bond."

"Fucking hell," He groaned. That was how they left it before falling asleep.

* * *

"Move that hand and you'll lose it," Emily had cautioned with a smirk. It was around seven in the morning and she and Mick were in bed. They were both on their sides, Mick's hand positioned on her hip.

Emily was shocked about how 'okay' the past two weeks had been. The team had been put on leave after what had happened with Reid, so Emily was left to finish errands. She had the chance to call her landlord, who assured her she could paint her spare room yellow if she painted it back to white whenever she moved. She had a chance to order furniture and buy clothes, which were— much to Garcia's protests— mostly creams, grays, and whites. Emily Prentiss just wasn't a pink tutu kind of woman. And Mick? Well he just never seemed to leave. He would go to work and come back, and they would have dinner together, have sex and go to bed. Overall, it was different for her, having someone there all the time. She was thankful he was gone for eight hours a day because no space at all would have made her want to kill him, but she genuinely enjoyed him basically living with her. Less so when he woke her up screaming about football matches at seven in the morning, but that was partially the baby's fault too for kicking her. It was a conspiracy of Rawsons.

Over the previous two weeks they had all tried to reach out to Reid. That being said, Emily knew that Reid mostly wanted to be left alone. There was something about the three of them— Emily, Hotch and Reid— they weren't the closest of the BAU group, but they had all _suffered. _And in their suffering they were able to understand each other. They knew when they needed to be left alone. They knew what it was like when the world went on, but you just needed it to 'stop' for a while. JJ and Garcia had made daily visits to his apartment, and Emily thought that important, but she also knew the man didn't need to be overwhelmed. He knew they loved him. He needed to come back to them when he was ready, on his own terms. Emily understood that better than anyone. She had rushed it. She had rushed back, and it had been hard.

So the team went on in their daily lives, and Emily's daily life had come to include Mick Rawson.

"Go away."

Emily felt his hot breath on her ear when he asked it, "Really?"

"No," She reluctantly admitted with a huff, glad he was behind her and couldn't see her smile. Just as he had begun to kiss her neck and drift his hand down, her phone rang. "Fuck," She groaned and move to grab her phone off the bedside table before falling back into the bed.

"You're supposed to be on maternity leave," He grumbled between kisses, pulling her closer.

"I'm on regular leave. It'll be my last few days," She informed him, and cleared her throat to answer the phone. "Prentiss."

"She quits!" Mick yelled and moved his hand up towards her chest.

"You quit?!" Garcia asked, sounding rather appalled. However, Emily could still sense the technical analyst's smirk. Garcia wasn't an idiot. She knew why Mick was in her bed at seven in the morning.

"No," Emily laughed.

"She'll be late!"

"You've been held up?" Garcia giggled, and then erupted into full blown laughter when she heard Emily order Mick to 'shut up.'

"What time do I need to be there?" Emily asked, a little distractedly as she swatted Mick's hands away.

"Hotch wants us all to meet up at eight for a briefing, then consult work, and…"

"And?"

"And Alex Blake is coming in today," Garcia said a little bitterly, "Alex Blake, the so-called Agent of all things perfection. Blah, blah, blah, who needs her?"

Emily laughed at the other woman's immaturity. Alex Blake was great. Emily was sure she would get on well with the team, that was after Garcia had finally taken to her. The brunette wagered that might take a little longer than she had anticipated. "We 'needs her.' You knew this time was coming eventually."

"Why can't you just have your baby in the BAU like JJ did? Out blondie is a trendsetter. Follow the tre—"

"—I'll see you at eight, Garcia," Emily interrupted and hung up her phone. "I can give you ten minutes," Emily offered to Mick with a shrug, feigning disinterest.

"You're so bloody gorgeous I need a full fortnight," He groaned. "Ten?"

"It's eight more minutes than you took last time," Emily shot back with a wicked smile.

His face had contorted into an expression that was a mix between shock, offense, and laughter. "Such a cruel woman," Mick chuckled and pulled her on top of him, eliciting laughter from the woman.

* * *

**We're wrapping up this part of the story and heading into our time jump/case. Then we'll be on to the "Lost" part of Paradise Lost. **

**Thanks for sticking with me, reading and reviewing. **

**It will be getting a little darker and more criminal soon...**


	14. This is

**I'm not doing an in-depth labor scene because I've already done a comedic one in a previous story (no repeats), but I don't want to do a sappy one. **

**This is sappy enough as it is.**

**This is a longer chapter and time jump.**

* * *

It was around eight in the evening and Emily was laid out on her side on the sofa in her living room. An old episode of _Law and Order_ was on. For some inexplicable reason, Emily thought that predicting the episodes, along with complaining about how inaccurate they were, was relaxing. However, the television was left on mute while she precariously balanced her laptop on the few inches of free space left on the sofa. She was desperately trying to find any new ideas to evict an overdue child from her uterus, but, you know, gently. She was past due. If Emily's due date was yogurt it would have had to be thrown out a few days before. Even worse, Emily had already had two false labors. She was teetering on the edge of having to be induced, which she didn't really want to do either. She wanted the baby to come out on her own when she was ready, but she also wanted the baby to be ready right then. "You're already her favorite," Emily said in a voice that was a mix between exhaustion and disappointment.

Mick had stopped his loading of the dishwasher when he had heard her complaining, in favor to walk over to the living room area. It was a rarity— Emily Prentiss complaining. In fact, Mick wondered if she complained even less while pregnant, trying to avoid the cliche of a whiny pregnant woman. If anything, Mick felt that the zero complaining and internalizing all her pregnancy discomfort was more annoying than if Emily just nonstop moaned around the house like Sergio had after he had accidentally stepped on him a few weeks before.

"Why is that?"

Emily sharply inhaled and rubbed her temples in an effort to stave off another headache. She was so ready for all of this to be over. "She's wrecking havoc on my body. I'm so sick of this. I think she's secretly enjoying it. She kicked me so hard last night I swore I almost peed myself. She already hates me."

"All right, let's take a look here," Mick said through a yawn as he lifted Emily's legs and sat below on them on the sofa. He stretched before motioning for her to pass over the computer so he could get up the link from Dr. Hoyt about how to naturally induce labor. "This says exercise. You up for a quick waddle about town, love?"

Emily's eyes had immediately glared at the man after he uttered the word 'waddle.' Emily Prentiss did not waddle. She took extra effort specifically not to waddle. No, if anything she shuffled. "Not really," She began with a sigh, "I'm too tired. I'm even too tired to berate you for saying I waddle. Remind me later to insult you for that."

"Right then," Mick nodded and looked back to the list. "Spicy food?"

"Tried it," Emily grumbled. "Now I have heart burn and no baby."

"Acupuncture?"

"Haven't I been stabbed enough?"

"Nipple-"

"—No," Emily immediately cut him off. As far as she was concerned that entire area was a sore, enter at your own risk region.

"You're not going to like the last one then," Mick laughed as he closed the computer and reached over her legs to place it on the coffee table.

She already knew what he had been getting at. "I feel grotesque," Emily admitted with a huff.

"You're not grotesque," Mick replied with raised eyebrows and the tilt of his head.

Emily mirrored his head tilt, but kept her brows straight. She wasn't going to give in to his flirty expression. "I know that, but I _feel _that way. I'm not used to being so—"

"—Rotund?"

Emily scowled at his interruption. "I was going to say full. God, I hate you," She told him with a chuckle. "And on this subject, I can't believe you still want to."

"Come on then, let's have a quick shag. We'll be banned for a while after you have her."

"No."

"I'd be doing ya a favor."

"Haven't you done me enough favors?" Emily grumbled and clicked her tongue. "Cause and cure all from the same man."

"You don't look absolutely revolting, for the record. You think so, but you don't." He stated matter-of-factly as he scanned her body with a smug smirk, eliciting a laugh from the heavily pregnant woman. She didn't even bother to respond to that statement, content to just let him drum his fingers on her swollen ankles, covertly giving them a comforting pat.

"You already know I was mad about you after we met. _But _you were into me, too, eh? Time to admit it. Off the bat you thought I was a handsome bastard. Admit it."

Emily rolled her eyes at the request. "I thought you were _incredibly _egotistical, but you weren't entirely horrible looking."

"You liked me," Mick teased in a whisper.

"I tolerated you."

"You loved me."

Emily bit her bottom lip and opted not to continue the flirty banter. She really wasn't up for any physical affection beyond a quick peck, and she wanted to address something else that had been bothering her. It was part of the reason why she was grateful Mick had taken a few days off when it obvious the baby was coming sometime soon. "When it does happen, hopefully sometime this year, don't call an ambulance." Mick nodded for her to go on. "The last time I…" She drifted off. She didn't feel up for explaining any further, which he immediately picked up.

"I'll drive you," Mick mercifully cut in. "It's all right. I'll be there to drive you, no ambulance necessary."

"You can be in the room with me," Emily added. Her eyes stayed focused on the television. Someone was being arrested.

Mick laughed at the offer. "Who else would it be?"

"JJ, but she's out of town."

"Be honest with me," Mick started in a very serious voice. His tone prompted Emily to shift to lock eyes with him. "Is JJ the real father?"

Emily let out a loud laugh at the question. So loud she was positive her daughter kicked her because the sound had disrupted whatever she had been up to in there. "I'm so sorry you had to find out this way."

"Knew it all along. A proper patsy I was."

Emily's voice became subdued again, but her smile remained in place. "You can hold my hand during."

"Okay."

"But I don't want one of those kneading back massages. I can handle it. I don't need to be comforted or anything. I have been through it before, not childbirth but other stuff. I can't imagine that it would hurt more than being staked, right? And I've been hit by a car. I was slightly hit by a car when we were on the case back in San Francisco," She rambled. He could tell the more that she protested the more it meant she was concerned about the pain of childbirth. She had been through enough physical torture over the past two years.

"I won't," He assured her with an easy smile. "Won't touch you unless you ask."

In the end, she had asked.

* * *

The team had been away on a case in Chicago when they had found out Emily was halfway through labor. Emily, on her part, was careful not to interfere with a case she was sure would be close to her partner. Cases normally were when the team was back in Chicago. However, that consideration left JJ and— surprisingly Reid— a little dismayed. Garcia, on the other hand, selfishly cherished that she was the only one around to witness baby Prentiss-Rawson's arrival. She had been trying to get those two bozos together for what seemed like years. Garcia thought it only fair she get the baby first.

It had felt like an eternity for all three of them. Garcia was at the hospital for the last four hours of Emily's sixteen hour labor, and Emily didn't really find herself prepared for labor, which she blamed both JJ and Mick for. The problem was, Emily Prentiss didn't really have time for birthing classes. She already felt iffy about taking off four months of work, and she would have felt even guiltier about asking Hotch for more time off. While Mick pointedly reminded her she was going to be giving birth to an entire human and she deserved special treatment solely because of that, Emily disagreed. She didn't want to be treated any differently because she was pregnant. It was bad enough she was out of the field.

Plus, JJ hadn't done birthing classes. She had told Emily they weren't even necessary, and that Emily would know exactly what to do anyway. It was just nature. Which is why Emily hated Jennifer Jareau when hour five of being in labor rolled around, and then there was Mick Rawson. The stupid, useless father of her child, who had agreed with JJ that Emily would be 'all right' without birthing classes. How the fuck did he know? Why had she trusted him? That was her mistake. Mick always agreed with JJ's 'oh, everything is fine' approach to pregnancy, while Emily was more into getting the full picture, no bullshit. So she went to Spencer Reid. Why didn't she go to Reid for this too? The questions ran through her head as she stared at the obnoxious, oversexed Brit who put her in that delivery room to being with, eating _her_ ice chips.

For hours all Emily had wanted to do was push, but they told her 'no,' which only sounded counterproductive. Finally, after what felt like days, they wanted her to push, but she didn't want to _then_. Emily felt they should've just let her have the baby when she was ready to have the baby! She was forty-two. She was too tired for this nonsense. It just felt like some sick joke the world was playing on her, and there was Mick just laughing along as she called him a 'useless fuck.'

Just as Emily was about to promise she would _never _have another baby, the tiny, confused, red, gooey infant was placed on her chest before being cleaned up. All it took was one look and she knew Reid was right— The oxytocin had taken over for her. She would look back on that morning and completely forget all the pain and discomfort, and only remember the little face in front of her, confused by the world but completely calmed by her mother's soft, warm voice.

"Hi," Emily found herself cooing at the baby while Mick stroked the newborn's back, much like you would a puppy. "Hi, Meredith."

* * *

After hours of waiting, a nurse had informed Penelope Garcia she could finally go back. By the time she had gotten the invite, Emily was already a little more cleaned up. Garcia could tell even from far away that the brunette was exhausted and sweaty, but still content. It was for a much better reason than the last time Emily had found herself in the hospital two years prior. Meanwhile, Mick looked about the same as he always did, although he did have a bit more scruff and dark bags under his eyes. He was dressed in blue hospital scrubs and a gown, his hair playfully mussed as usual. And then Garcia's eyes focused on the little white blanket in Mick's arms. The technical analyst tempered her excitement so she could wait in the hallway and observe the new family's interaction.

"We did all right, eh?"

"And what did you do exactly?" Emily teased in a tired voice, not even bothering to look up from Meredith.

"Brought you those ice chips didn't I?" Mick replied as he got off the bed, opting to walk around the room with his new daughter.

"You ate the ice chips, and don't drop her," Emily cautioned in a panicked voice, earning a laugh from Mick.

"I'm not going to drop her. I'm keeping it tight…She's a quiet little thing."

"She's tired," Emily sighed. She was pretty tired herself.

"Completely knackered. You feeling all right?"

Emily took a deep breath at the question. It sure would have been easier if Mick could have had the baby, and she didn't feel entirely unlike that time she had been hit by a truck. However, of all the pain she had endured over the past decade, at least this one was really worth it. "I feel okay because she's here," She finally answered. "Do you feel ready?"

Mick chuckled at the question, "Probably sound like an absolute twp, but I forgot she was in there." The admission had earned a soft laugh from Emily.

"Oh, what a stupid, stupid daddy of yours," She teased, addressing the newborn.

"I am ready enough, for the sleep deprivation and nappies."

Emily was sure it was the extra hormones coursing through her body. She was positive it was purely biological why she felt so _complete _watching that oversexed, egotistical, idiot Mick Rawson holding their daughter so gently. He was just staring at Meredith, so focused on her. It felt like her and Meredith were the only two people who really mattered to him. "I _really _like you," Emily admitted faintly, prompting Mick to look up and smile at her. It was a genuine smile, not cocky or arrogant.

"You mean 'love,' love."

"Don't push it," Emily shot back with a lopsided grin as he handed her back the infant.

"Go on with Mummy, darling."

"Well, well, well," Garcia finally spoke up from the room's entrance, "Whenever did this happen?" She gave Mick a quick perfunctory hug before she pushed him out of the way to get to Emily and the baby.

"Oh my god," Garcia squealed in her softest whisper, and danced around in place, her heels clicking on the hospital floor. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. "Gimme that baby."

"Use the hand sanitizer," Emily laughed and nodded over towards the bottle before handing over the little girl to the technical analyst. "This is Meredith."

"Oh my god," Garcia repeated, forgetting all about Emily and Mick and turning all her attention on to the little pink face. "Meredith Prentiss-Rawson, little Meredith, I cannot. This little girl…She's FBI royalty. My little love muffin, the FBI Princess, the Diva of the Department of Justice, the Goddess of the Government, the Sultan of the Special Forces, the Countess of the CIA...Look at her little pink lips and itty bitty dark hair! She's so cute I want to stea—"

"—Garcia," Emily warned.

"But, little fingers," Garcia argued and gestured with her eyebrow towards Meredith's little hand sticking out of the swaddle.

"You can't keep her."

"Mean Mommy," The blonde cooed to the baby in her arms.

"It's Mummy," Mick corrected and leaned forward to check on his little girl. "The girl is half a Brit. Don't you Americans forget it."

"Okay," Garcia started, her eyes narrowing as if she was ready to start bartering. "I'll share Meredith with you, but I want Daddy's holding time. Deal?"

Before Mick had a response ready, Emily had cut in. "I don't think so, but you can try checking with him. What time is Hotch supposed to get here anyway?" Emily teased with a lopsided grin as she looked over to Mick, who ducked his mouth into his arm to keep from laughing hard enough that he woke the sleeping infant. "You can't call me a tosser. I just gave birth to your daughter. It's against the rules."

Mick just chuckled and leaned down to brush his lips against hers, forgetting Garcia was in the room and whispering through his kiss, "You are an ungodly woman."

The rest of the day had felt a little chaotic. The team had all rushed in as soon as they could, fighting over who could hold the baby. Even Hotch made sure he got a turn. He loved a good baby hold, so what? Meanwhile, Emily had asked for Morgan to stay behind while Mick had gone to call Sam, his old team, and then pick up Jenna from the airport.

"So," Emily began, stroking her fingers over Meredith's head, "There is something I need to talk to you about."

"Which is?" Morgan asked curiously as he sat down on the faded blue chair beside her bed. She had looked completely drained, but still the happiest he had seen her in a while. She had always looked happy with Mick, and now Meredith.

"Mick's sister, Jenna, threatened to go on full 'Jack the Ripper' on him if she wasn't the godmother."

"So you want me to break it to baby girl," Morgan groaned. Garcia really thought this godchild was hers. Sure, Garcia admitted to him privately that JJ might have had the edge on her since she didn't have a godchild yet, but Penelope was the only one of the team who knew both Mick and Emily. Garcia had been bragging to Morgan for months that she finally had a goddaughter. "I have been through too much," Morgan moaned and rubbed his head.

"Actually," Emily corrected with a genuine smile as she looked up from the baby to her longtime friend. No matter what, Derek Morgan would always be her sidekick, her partner. "Since Mick got to pick the Godmother— and didn't push a seven pound human out of his body— he's stuck telling her and JJ. _And _I get to pick the Godfather. So…"

"So?" Morgan still looked a little confused.

The man's confusion earned a chuckle and eye roll from Emily. "Hey, dummy, do you want to be Meredith's godfather?"

Morgan's eyes immediately shot up and he reached out his hands to hold the baby again. "I'll let that 'dummy' comment slide just this one time, Princess. Hand my Goddaughter over."

* * *

A day later Emily and Mick had first returned home with Meredith, only to turn to each other and simultaneously ask "Now what?"

Needless to say, it had taken time to come together with a routine. Actually, the idea of a routine was a myth entirely after the first couple of weeks. The two, well, morons as JJ had put it, had been lulled into a sense of security by a very sleepy newborn baby who was pretty easy considering. Then she got more energy, and they got less. Mick, fortunately, had stayed at Emily's apartment, and, once again, Emily had to admit JJ was right. She was sure she could take care of a baby by herself, but it was so tiring. Her body already was drained by giving birth, and then there was baby crying every three hours because she was hungry or needed a diaper change. At least with Mick around she only had to focus on feeding and could make him do the diaper changes. And although she still wasn't thrilled about telling him so, Mick Rawson had somehow become one of her favorite people. In the great joke that was life, the two absolute favorite people in Emily Prentiss' life had been either Mick Rawson or a part of him.

And while Emily felt like she had finally put the past behind her and believed all the words Garcia had told her in her apartment parking lot moths before, it was her first case back from maternity leave that made Emily feel like her heart wasn't in it anymore.

It had been a case involving nannies and babies, probably the worst case she could have possibly gone back to. On the way home Emily had asked JJ if those cases, after becoming a mother, had ever become easier. JJ had simply told her the truth and replied 'no.' The blonde's bluntness had earned a sarcastic 'Thanks, Jaje' and fake laugh from Emily, and had led her to believe that it was just _that case. _But the cases had kept coming, and that feeling of professional discontent hadn't left her. She had told Mick— only after she had first reminded him she didn't want advice— and he just told her it would pass. If it didn't pass, then she would have to figure out what that meant. It hadn't passed for him.

Detroit, a quick prison interview in Boston, a consult with Rossi in New Haven— the work didn't stop and neither did that feeling. Emily felt like she had been going through the motions at work. She felt present at home. She felt happy at home. It wasn't as if she wanted to become a stay-at-home-mom. She could never handle that as much as she loved Meredith. But Emily had been 'back' for two years and she only really felt _back _in her personal life. She felt _back _with the team when they spent time together as friends. She felt _back _when she was alone with Mick. She felt _back _when she was with Meredith. Those feelings of contentment had made her certain of something: it was the job. She had grown tired of the job.

The Replicator case and the death of Erin Strauss had only confirmed it. It was just like Mick had said, there were certain aspects of the job that wouldn't let her 'forget.' There would always be another case, another victim, another reminder. She wasn't sure whether that meant her time in the BAU was over forever, or if she could come back someday. But it was clear that _someday _wasn't that month or even that year. She still needed to rid herself of that last piece of the nightmare of Ian Doyle. She owed it to her family. She owed it to herself. But Emily wasn't sure if she could do that without space.

It was a strange sight to see Mick Rawson in a suit. It was even more odd to see him wearing a tie. Emily was shocked he knew how to tie it, and didn't just drape it over his neck like a scarf. The two had just gotten home from the funeral of Erin Strauss. Meredith had been home with a nanny, who Emily had thanked and bid 'goodbye' to before she walked into the nursery to find Mick rocking the little girl in his arms. Meredith was quiet, comfortable in the soft pink shorttail her grandmother had bought her, her eyes closed as she bounced around.

"What is the matter, love?" He asked softly, noticing that Emily was quieter than usual.

"It's just…" She drifted as she gingerly ran her fingertips atop Meredith's head. She used her thumb and index finger to softly pull up the thin strands of her daughter's dark hair. It had always soothed the little girl, Emily playing with her hair. It was a trait that she seemed to inherit from her father.

Mick softened his expression at the woman, "You thinking about when it was you?"

"Maybe a little," Emily shrugged and moved to reach her hands into his hair. "You look good today."

"_Today_?" Mick asked incredulously before he gave her a smug look. "I always look good, but is the suit doing it for ya, hun? Ready to get to work on number two?" Emily scoffed at the suggestion. She wasn't completely opposed to the idea, but she just got back to her regular mile run-time. She was not having another baby any time soon. "You should call back that wanker."

"What wanker?"

"Easter," Mick laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the only person with a home phone and message taker. About as 90's as the condoms you used to keep."

"Shut up," Emily laughed and shook her head.

"A lot has transpired," Mick offered before he put Meredith back in her crib. "There is no point in hiding from it. Right in the middle we got the most lovely girl, and you a devilishly handsome boyfriend," He added for good measure with a smirk. "Maybe it's time for a new start. Not every soul is Aaron Hotchner."

"What do you mean?"

"People grow tired of jobs. It doesn't mean they cannot go back to them. Means they're tired of them, right then. You don't have to stay at a post forever. If you were to want to go to London it wouldn't have to be for the end of time."

Emily bit her bottom lip and contemplated at his remarks. It was something that she had toyed with herself, but she was torn over the idea. "They're like my family. They are my family."

"Well, you never did have the best record with those," He teased before he got serious again. "They will always be your family, even if you need a new start for a short while."

Emily ran her hands through the hair at his temples. His stupid, always messy, lovely hair. "And what about us? What about you?"

"I'd come with you of course. You've absolutely lost the plot this time," Mick replied with a laugh. "Quick transfer and I'd be closer to my beloved."

Emily raised her eyebrow at 'beloved.' He didn't say beloved_s._ "You mean Meredith?"

"Swansea City," He deadpanned before giving her a gentle kiss.

"I love you," Emily finally admitted in her four-month old daughter's bedroom. It had only taken her around a year to come to terms with. In a world of over seven billion people, she had— in spite of all her logic and protests not to— she had fallen in love with Mick Rawson.

"I love you, too, Emily."

She snaked her arms around his neck, kissing him again before she pulled back. "Do not ever get me a ring. You know how I feel about the ring."

"I promise I will never marry you."

"The seven words every woman wants to hear," Emily laughed before moving in for another kiss.

* * *

**Once again, thanks for reading/reviewing!**

**Last chapter of Part 1 is up next. **


	15. Paradise

**Part 1 is officially done.**

**Also, there will be 'mother Emily' which both a commenter and PM had requested so we've finally made it there.**

* * *

"Do your children like fairytales?" There was a lightness and glee in his usual nasally tone, a singsong nature in which he had asked the question. For he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. "I bet they do. Lucky for them I have one. It's a grim one, though," He taunted with a slight skip in his step. "Once upon a time there was a little boy, not much older than these two. He was smart, and everyone else knew that. But what they didn't know, what they couldn't see— what they _refused_ to see— was he was brave too. The other children were so envious, so cruel about what they couldn't understand. They didn't play games with him.

But, you see, this little boy loved to play games. He loved to win games. And one day, when he was all alone, he watched someone else play one.

There was a man. He would take these foolish little women; never to be found until he wanted them to be. He was good at this game, but someone else came who was better. Do you know what his name was?"

Of course there was no response to the question.

"I bet you do. You know him," The man grinned as he ran the edge of his gun across a bruised cheek. "It was Agent Hotchner. His name was—is— Aaron Hotchner. And Agent Hotchner, and all his calvary, came and slayed the gamesman, and the boy was there watching. The little boy was there and he wondered if anyone else could beat Agent Aaron Hotchner. That wonder of a child that never went away.

Years passed, seasons changed, and the little boy became less and less 'little.' He still wondered: when will it be my turn to play?

So he _took_ a woman, and no one noticed.

And he _took_ another, and no one noticed.

And he _took_, and he _took,_ and he _took_, and still no one would come play with him. You see, he was too good."

He moved back to stand by the girls, both blissfully unaware of the danger they were in. He placed a comforting hand on Meredith's shoulder and beamed, "You have two girls who know this. They know what he knew all along: it isn't much fun playing by yourself.

One day there was no Agent Aaron Hotchner. He left, gave up, but there was a new player. There was no Agent Hotchner any longer, there was just an Agent Prentiss. And the man— no longer little, no longer needing anyone to play with him— thought: maybe I won't _play_ with her. Maybe I'll just beat her.

And then I did."

* * *

_Three Years Earlier _

Emily had seen them twice professionally in the three years before she and her family had returned to the BAU. The first had been when JJ was in trouble, and was right before she had finally gotten pregnant with her and Mick's second daughter: Effy. Mick had bothered her to no end about that name, and her relationship with her mother had repaired itself a little more after Meredith was born. In the end, Emily decided that there were worse namesakes than her own mother— a strong woman for her daughter to look up to. And Mick had been right about one thing, it was nice to have a close relationship with an 'Elizabeth Prentiss' from the get go.

While Meredith had been a very welcome surprise, it had taken thirteen months of what had seemed like endless trying for Emily to get pregnant with her second child. It had taken fertility shots and trying— trying so much that they both felt like sex was ruined because it had become a means to an end that never came. It had taken prayers to a God that neither of them believed existed, and neither of them would like very much even if he did. It had taken tears, and laughter, and love, and loss, and two miscarriages, and time before Emily found herself pregnant with another child. After Alex Blake, who had unsurprisingly ended up taking over for Emily full-time, had left, Hotch had asked if she wanted to return to the BAU. And even though Emily finally felt like she had put all of Ian Doyle behind her and could handle the work without the whole undercover ordeal coming back up to torment her, she was around two months out from having another baby. It didn't seem like a good time to uproot their family.

The team had changed a lot in the time between JJ's abduction and when Emily had gone back to work an Interpol a case with the BAU. She had lost an undercover, which was an emotional time she was happy to have Mick around for, and her old BAU team had a lot of turnover. Morgan had left. Alex Blake had left. Her replacement Kate Callahan had left. There was a new agent brought on named Tara. The whole team seemed thrilled to have her, and the overall stability of Emily Prentiss, back. And she had felt ready to be back. She was ready for the work. She was ready to be with her _family_ again. So she and Mick had decided at the next opportunity she would transfer back to the BAU.

When Hotch departed, Emily agreed to join the team on a permanent basis as the new Unit Chief.

And that was how Garcia, JJ, and Reid found themselves sitting around a large marble island in the white kitchen of Mick and Emily's new Georgetown row house, where they had settled because Emily insisted she would never live in Virginia. Rossi had come too, but had left right after dinner. Dinner that was ordered, of course, because Emily still couldn't cook and she didn't want to subject their team to Mick's toddler dinners. They had suffered enough. Naturally, the rest of the team would be welcome at the Prentiss-Rawson home any time, but this little dinner party was meant for just the old friends to catch up.

"They are so cute. My little sugar and spice," Garcia said excitedly as she rushed into a barstool near Emily. The technical analyst couldn't help but rush into each girl's room, even though they were fast asleep. Meredith was three and a half. She had the same hair color as Emily, but otherwise looked like a tiny, female Mick Rawson. However, she didn't really share his personality. Meredith was a little shy, very smart, and a little awkward, just like Emily was at that age. Meanwhile, Effy— who was around a year and a half— had already looked just like Emily had at that age. The younger girl was a carbon copy of her mother. When she was in town last, Elizabeth Prentiss had brought Emily over a few photos of Emily at that age, and aside from the different qualities of the photos, you couldn't tell that Effy and Emily were two different people.

"Having to leave them more often was my only reservation about taking the job," Emily admitted with a laugh before she nodded over in Mick's direction, "It'll be nice to travel away from this one more often."

"They'll never believe ya," Mick replied confidently. "They've been knowing since San Francisco that you had plans for this chap. I told you all she'd fall for me."

"Right," Emily rolled her eyes.

"Full arse-over-tits fall, like a drunk Gran at Christmas lunch. Had two of my children, requests for me to ravish her every night—"

"—Mick," Emily swatted and scolded the man. The playful flirtations made the group laugh. It was always the same with Emily and Mick. There was way more depth and love than San Francisco, of course, but their manner with each other had stayed the same.

"How often do you two…you know?" JJ questioned curiously. Around year five her and Will had hit a little bit of a roadblock, but apparently they were the only ones at the table.

"Never now," Emily glared at Mick.

"We'll see about that," He responded confidently, making Reid blush as well as earning a high-five from Garcia.

"When are you two getting married? Is Mick going to have to almost blow up for you two beautiful doofuses to get married?" Garcia asked before looking over to her blonde friend, "No offense, buttercup."

"None taken," JJ laughed and grimaced to Reid. Doofuses? Did that mean she was a doofus too, or did Garcia just mean Emily and Mick?

"She's trying to protect her money from me," Mick deadpanned.

"And my self-respect," Emily added with a smirk before she took a sip of her wine and used her free hand to rub the space between Mick's shoulder blades. "What would be the point of getting married anyway? We have kids together. He'll never go away."

"Right."

Garcia narrowed her eyes at the couple and said matter-of-factly, "You owe it to me."

"Owe it to ya, eh?"

"You had two little girls and I was the godmother of **zero** of them!" Garcia ranted with a loud sigh.

"You have Henry and Michael," JJ reminded with a 'look.'

"And Hank," Emily added in.

"I love my munchkins," Garcia soothed JJ before turning her rage back on the brown-haired, FBI couple. "Your daughters have British accents! I mean, _come on._ I'm pushed aside from my destiny as Godmummy to two little girls with British accents! First, we have sweet baby Meredith— who by the way I don't know how you two snark-buckets produced— taken by the so-called 'sister.'"

"She's my little sister!" Mick tried to defend.

"Then gumdrop gets knocked up again—"

"—Classy," JJ joked to Emily.

"—And who does she give the _superior_ Elizabeth Prentiss to? JJ!"

"What's wrong with me?" JJ asked in faux-shock as she looked around the group of profilers, and Penelope Garcia.

Garcia just waved the other woman off, "You shoulda made JJ the Godfather. So much for equal rights—"

"—That's what I told you when you showed me that dodgy condom," Mick reminded Emily with a grin. Meanwhile, Emily wasn't sure who was more insufferable in that moment, Garcia or the father of her children.

"—You two barely even see Sam anyway—"

"—Do I get no say in this? I'm their dad—"

"—No!" Garcia cut off Mick with an over exaggerated eye roll of her own, "And then I could've been the Godmother."

"If Sam had said no we would've picked Rossi," Emily laughed over her wine glass.

"You mean grandpa lasagna who's already in bed? I can't believe this!"

The large kitchen erupted into laughter at the dramatics of the technical analyst. Emily shared a look with Mick, one that he could completely understand. The reason _why _she had ended up back at the BAU wasn't perfect. It was anything but. Still, it was good to be home. Emily Prentiss, along with the family she never thought she would have, was home.

* * *

**Any predictions so far? **


	16. Lost?

**Shorter chapter back in the 'present day.'**

**We're in the same year as the first flash-forward from chapter one.**

**I may need to edit this later, just as a warning. **

* * *

_Present Day _

The past three years of being back in D.C., with Emily as the BAU's unit chief, had been a whirlwind. The paperwork and politics of the job had probably been the easiest part, as Emily had grown used to those aspects of the job in London. Mick was already used to the hours, and his office-based counterterrorism position made arranging schedules much more flexible. The couple had gotten their girls into a top British international and nursery school in D.C., which had been Mick's only request. He was insistent the girls would never lose their accent, but while Meredith kept hers, Effy didn't. One out of two wasn't bad, so Mick didn't complain _that_ much.

In typical Mick Rawson fashion, on the girls' first day he had playfully teased them endlessly about their little uniforms and being 'posh' like their mother. That being said, while things were going well within the Prentiss-Rawson family, there were still stressors and occasional conflicts. The past year and a half, in particular, had been difficult. Reid had been in prison. Stephen had been killed. Emily had been kidnapped by Mr. Scratch, which had terrified the family. It had been the first time Effy and Meredith had seen Emily in the hospital, but she had assured them she was okay. She was always 'okay.' Then, she had found herself suspended, which the girls were thrilled about. Emily was positive that if Meredith and Effy knew who she was, Linda Barnes would've received two 'thank you's' from her daughters.

Her return to the BAU had been so hectic that old UNSUBS coming back into the picture had actually been a welcome relief to the couple, and it looked like they were finally getting back into the old motion of things. Truthfully, despite all the difficulties, Emily had fallen in love with her work again. She had felt fulfilled by what she was doing with the BAU. She had no longer found it to be torturous or pointless. And all of that made it simpler to cope with. The team was safe. The team was stable, without any drama or romantic confessions under UNSUB-related duress of any kind.

And, most of all, her—their family was happy.

Emily tiptoed into her bedroom around one in the morning after Rossi's wedding. Well, she had tried to anyway, but she rather ungracefully had nearly fallen into the bed while trying to kick off her heels. Her awkward motion had awoken Mick. Their nanny, Joy, had been off for the weekend and their backup babysitter had cancelled, so Mick Rawson had found himself promptly disinvited from the Rossi wedding. Emily was giving a toast, and he wasn't. He was expendable in the eyes of David Rossi.

"I expect to hear your sobby speech," Mick ordered. His face was still smashed into his pillow so his voice was muffled.

"Never happening, it'd be too awkward."

"I know," Mick chuckled and moved to sit up in bed, smirking at Emily. He turned on the lamp on his bedside table and then motioned cheekily to his shirtless body bathed in warm, yellow light. "You wouldn't be able to focus anyway. Would you, love? With me here, in bed, only my underpants, top off."

"Right," Emily laughed at the man. "You wear that every night."

"And you want to shag me every night," He shot back with a cocky smile.

"Sure," Emily stated sarcastically. He didn't say anything back, instead opting to grin at her in his trademark 'arrogant Mick Rawson' way. "Yeah…I know _exactly_ what that look means," She laughed and started to take off her dress.

He didn't even bother to argue. "You looked bloody gorgeous. I've been thinking about you in that dress the entire night."

"Oh really?"

"I wished it was tighter and skimpier—"

"—I was at a wedding!" She scolded with a laugh.

"No one was looking at the bride anyway."

"You're awful!" She chided with the shake of her head. Somehow, after seven years she could still be shocked by him.

"An absolute arsehole."

Emily flashed him a lopsided grin. "That I can agree with."

"It would make up for being abandoned alone," Mick reminded her with a pointed looked. "Left alone to rot."

Emily scoffed at the complaint, and found herself laughing again after she had looked to his fingernails, which were painted red courtesy of their daughters. "You were left with the P-R girls, and I see they made you very Boy George chic, again," She cackled and straddled him on the bed. "I did miss having you around, though. Just a little bit."

"Did you now?"

"You smell good," She had said instead, ignoring the question and moving to kiss where his jaw met his ear. "I had red wine."

Mick's eyes lit up in realization. This was definitely happening. "I like when you have red wine."

"Mmm, me too," Emily giggled a little. Rossi always had the best wine. She had secretly hoped there would be a wedding number five just for that reason alone. "They're asleep?"

"Absolutely knackered. They won't wake up," Mick replied. Emily had moved to turn off their bedside light. The motion had caused her to grind the lower half of her body against him in a way that had earned a soft grunt from the man. "We are never getting one of those bloody clapper lights."

"For sure, I have a different idea for your hands," Emily smirked.

"You're so naughty," Mick groaned. He then immediately pushed down their bedding and flipped them over, settling between her legs. Just as he had moved his hands across her back to take off her bra, the phone rang.

"No," Emily quietly said, her voice laced with disappointment.

"Don't answer it," He begged. Mick tried to ignore the ring in favor of kissing her neck and moving against her body, earning a quick hiss in response. "We'll be quick."

"That's not going to convince me."

Mick responded by sucking on her neck and whispering, "I'm completely begging, Emily. Please, let it ring. You're off rotation."

"What if it's important?"

"It's 1am."

"Exactly," Emily said firmly. "No one calls after ten unless it's important."

"_Emily_, it's been—"

"—Two nights," She laughed at him. "Don't whine," She ordered and moved to grab her phone, not really arguing as he stayed kissing her collarbone and palming her over her bra. Truthfully, she had appreciated that after seven years and two children later he was still incredibly attracted to her. "Trust me, I _really_ want you. I'm definitely still going to want to—" She started breathlessly before she saw who had called her, "—And get off me. It's my mother."

"For Christ's sake," Mick groaned and moved off of her. He sounded so disappointed she couldn't help but laugh as she answered the call. "It's the bloody human chastity belt herself," He murmured.

"Shut up," Emily playfully swatted her longtime boyfriend. Her mother liked Mick, but not enough to be okay with being called a 'human chastity belt.' "Mother?"

"Emily," The calm, always steady voice of Elizabeth Prentiss answered.

"Mother, it's really late," Emily reminded and sent Mick a silent apology. "Do you need something?"

"I apologize."

Emily's body language immediately became more rigid. Elizabeth Prentiss hardly ever apologized for anything, let alone intruding. "Are you okay?" Mick sat up and moved closer to Emily at the question.

"I've heard from the Duncans."

"The Duncans?" With that Emily was really lost. Mick had rested his chin on her shoulder and she turned to show him a look of pure confusion. "As in Fiona's parents?"

"Yes." As usual, Elizabeth's manner and tone were giving nothing away.

"Are they okay?"

"No."

Emily nervously swallowed at the answer. She was shocked Fiona herself hadn't called her. That didn't make sense. "Is Roger okay? I know he had surgery recently."

"Triple bypass," Elizabeth sighed. "Emily, darling, I'm not calling about Roger. They are not 'okay' because, well, it's very difficult to tell you this, but your friend Fiona was killed."

"Killed?" Emily asked incredulously as she felt Mick's hands comfortingly rubbing over her arms. He had pressed a gentle kiss to her exposed shoulder. It was soft and meant to be reassuring, entirely unlike the passionate and hopeful kisses from earlier in the night. "What? How?"

"She was…killed."

Emily knew what that meant, the evasiveness. Her mother didn't want to say it. If it had been anything 'natural,' even something unnatural like a car accident, Elizabeth would have said 'died.' But no, Elizabeth Prentiss had said _killed_. In Emily's mind that only meant one thing. Fiona Duncan had been murdered.

"The Duncans asked me to tell you. It would have been too hard—"

"—I—I can't imagine," Emily interrupted. Her eyes had begun to get cloudy as she couldn't help but think of her own daughters who were, thankfully, safely asleep in their rooms. Mick had been there to protect them all night. She was home and able to protect them. No one had been able to protect Fiona. "Do they need me to—"

"—Emily, I am calling you as your mother. I am telling you as her _friend. _Do you understand?" Elizabeth's voice stayed kind, but very firm. "I am not calling you as the Behavioral Analysis Unit Chief. I am not calling Emily Prentiss the Federal Agent. I have called my daughter, Fiona's dear friend."

"Okay."

"The police have already found a lead. The case will be solved. Quite frankly, I don't think Roger and Ana want it dragged out. Just as well, I don't think they're strong enough for that."

"Yeah," Emily quietly replied.

Emily could hear her mother sigh on the other end of the phone. "I am very sorry to have to tell you this. I know how close you two were, especially when you were young. Two girls abroad in an exciting new city— You're not away and alone are you?"

"No," Emily cleared her throat. "No, I'm not. We're home."

"Right, then, at least we can feel a bit more decent about the fact you are with Mick?"

"Yeah," She had responded again and wiped the few stray tears from her cheeks. She knew her mother reminding her she was home with Mick—and not alone— was meant to reassure Elizabeth as much as Emily. "I should let you go."

"Try to go back to sleep, Emily. I know it's very late. I almost left it until morning, but I thought it worse if there was a morning report."

"No," Emily cut her mother off. "Thank you for telling me. Goodnight, Mother."

"Goodnight, Emily. Tell Elizabeth and Meredith I send my regards."

Mick had just watched Emily end the call and throw her phone further down on the bed. She was visibly upset and openly crying. It wasn't often that Emily Prentiss would openly cry. There would be unshed tears and a raw throat, but it was different from that. _This _was different from that. It was the way her tears were freely falling. There was being upset, affected, and then there was _this_. It was to a degree Mick had seldom seen previously. In fact, he was sure he had only seen it two times before: when Louise Hulland had died and when Emily was in the hospital after she had miscarried the second time.

He wrapped his arms around her and asked in the lowest voice possible, "Love, what has happened?"

"Fiona Duncan was murdered," Emily replied in a broken voice, and moved out of Mick's embrace to turn on the light on her bedside table.

* * *

**Any ideas?**

**As usual, thanks for reading.**


	17. Fiona Duncan

"Your attorney friend?" Mick questioned a little shocked himself. She had just nodded in reply. He didn't know her very well, but she was probably one of Emily's closest friends outside of the BAU. "Darling, what happened?"

"I don't know," Emily shook her head and cradled her head in her hands. "Mother didn't say."

"Why not?"

"She said she was calling to tell me as a friend, not an Agent," Emily sighed. She pulled her legs into her chest and folded her body into itself, looking so small in the big, white, king size bed. "She said she didn't want me to have to read it tomorrow morning, but her family doesn't want me to investigate."

"Why not?" Mick found himself repeating the same question over and over again. "Don't they want to find the person who did this?"

"She said they had a lead already? Her family just wants the case wrapped up. I guess it was pretty straightforward," Emily exhaled sharply and looked up at the Mick. His brown eyes had changed from a look of desire to worry and sympathy. Part of her wished she had never answered the call. Wished she had just listened to his requests to ignore it and press on in their tonight together. She wished she could have had another night where Fiona Duncan was fine, out there living in the world. But then again, she had to know. Emily Prentiss always had to know.

"You're not going to be able to sleep?" Mick's soft voice cut through the quiet room.

Emily shook her head 'no' in response.

"What do you want to do?"

Emily sniffled and bit her bottom lip, trying to calm herself down. "I just don't understand how this could happen."

"Love, you know people just do horrible things to other people," Mick cringed as soon as he had said it. It wasn't very comforting. And yet, there was still a look she got on her face after he did. He recognized it as the same look she got when she was trying to work out a problem or playing a game of chess with Reid. "Do you want me to get my computer? It's downstairs. We can do a quick search. See if there's anything out there," He offered weakly.

"Yeah."

"All right," He replied and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "I'll be right back, promise." Emily chewed on her bottom lip and watched his figure retreat from their bedroom into the dark hallway. His bare feet against the wood floors didn't make a sound.

Something didn't feel right. Her mother had said there was a 'lead.' It must have been a good lead, and the family— Fiona's family— was sure it was going to wrap up the case. But that was the point— it was a _case_. It wasn't an obvious situation of a robbery gone wrong or…worse. Emily pushed the thoughts of sexual violence out of her head. She wasn't going to jump to that, especially because it didn't make sense. It was a case. There was a 'lead.' That made her think murder. It made Emily think of some sort of easy to figure out motivation, possibly premeditation. But why would anyone want to murder Fiona?

_Fiona Duncan was murdered._

The realization hit her again and she felt a new set of tears forming. She desperately tried to stop them once she heard the little, British voice coming from the six-and-a-half year-old stood in her doorway.

"Mummy? Are you sad?" Meredith had asked. She was wearing a set of pink and blue dog patterned pajamas Garcia had bought her, and her dark hair was frizzy at the back from her pillow.

"No, honey," Emily soothed and wiped her eyes as the little girl ran into the room. "I'm just tired. Why aren't you asleep? Aren't you tired?" Meredith didn't reply, instead opting to climb on the bed and sit on Emily. Emily had wished she had been wearing pajamas herself, but at least she had just looked like she was in a bikini. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"And I heard noises," Meredith admitted with a tiny sigh.

"That's just Daddy downstairs," Emily comforted as she gingerly brushed out the little girls hair with her fingers. "He went into his office to get his computer."

"Why?"

Emily smiled at the question and pressed a kiss to the back of her daughter's head. "We have to do some work." Emily moved Meredith around so she could hold her by the shoulders and better look into the little girls eyes. They were just like Mick's. "Why didn't Daddy braid your hair before bed?"

"He didn't wanna."

Emily just laughed the disinterested answer. "Honey, what happened in your dream?"

Meredith looked down at the question, a little embarrassed. "It was the fire we saw with Daddy."

"The fire?" What had Mick shown them that night?

"Effy didn't get scared. She only cares about Timon and Pumbaa."

Emily nodded finally realizing it was _The Lion King_ that had scared the little girl. She couldn't blame Mick for that one. "Effy gets scared sometimes too."

"She's so much littler than me," Meredith sighed again as she picked and played with the silky, cream sheets on her parents' bed.

"Effy gets scared too," Emily assured with another kiss. "It's okay to get scared. We all get scared."

Meredith looked at her unsure. "Even you?"

"Even me," Emily whispered to the little girl.

"Can I sleep here with you and Daddy?"

Emily inhaled sharply at the question. She was pretty upset herself and being with her children always cheered her up, but it wasn't good for Meredith. She didn't need to hear what was going on. She was just a little girl. Emily was always exposed to problems too young, with her mother acting like children were just miniature adults. Emily had wanted to protect her daughters from that version of the world. "Daddy and I working tonight, baby. We're going to have the light on and I want you to be able to sleep."

"I can."

"With the light on?" Emily asked with a laugh and the raise of her eyebrows. Meredith didn't bother to reply because she knew it would be a lie. "Why don't I put you back in bed? We'll leave our door open so if you get scared you can see the light and know we're awake. Would that make you feel better?"

Meredith thought about the offer and eventually nodded.

"Give me a hug and I'll help you get off the bed."

Meredith obliged and wrapped her hands around her mother's neck. A few seconds later Emily had helped her get off the tall bed, and grabbed an old Yale T-shirt off her dresser on the way out of the room to cover up a little. On the way back to Meredith's pink bedroom, the two brunettes ran into Mick.

"Darling, why aren't you tucked up in bed?"

Emily merely mouthed 'nightmare' to Mick and motioned for him to follow them. They both hugged and kissed Meredith 'goodnight' and Emily tucked her into bed, whispering that she loved her and she was completely safe. Then, she had to walk back to her bedroom to try to figure out how her one of her oldest friends had been murdered.

"I didn't think _The Lion King_ would be a problem," Mick absentmindedly remarked to Emily from the bed while he was turning on the computer.

Emily yawned and climbed into bed beside him. She was exhausted, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep. "It's not your fault. She's just sensitive."

"She's such a sweet creature isn't she?" Mick more stated than asked.

"She is," Emily smiled before lowering her voice. "I promised her we'd leave the door open tonight. We have to be careful. I don't want either of them hearing anything."

"They won't," Mick assured her as he started typing, searching for info.

"I worry that they already know too much. They know I catch bad guys," Emily admitted quietly. "They saw me bruised up after Scratch."

"Emily," Mick began as he stopped his search to look over at Emily, "Meredith tells everyone you're Wonder Woman." It had elicited a laugh from Emily. She had heard about that before. Of course, it had been Penelope who had told her daughter that. "They don't know. Meredith also thinks I'm a bloody receptionist because Henry showed her a clip of _The Office— _the U.S. version, an absolute slap in the face— and it showed the receptionist. Now she thinks office equals phone. I showed them my badge and Effy asked me if 'Mummy gave it to me—" Mick was interrupted from a little laughter from Emily. "—They're absolutely protected."

"Meredith said Effy wasn't scared," Emily added as she ran her hands through her hair.

"Effy desperately wanted to eat some bugs after that worm buffet scene. We still have to worry about that one. Cheeky little thing, I'm not trusting her around an infestation," Mick grinned.

"She's definitely yours. Actually, _I_ want a DNA test on that one." She knew something was wrong as soon as Mick's smile at her joke had dropped.

"Emily, there's nothing."

Emily groaned at his response. She had been expecting this. "Mother said it wasn't a story yet."

"What else did she say?"

"It sounds like it wasn't…There was a motive. It wasn't just a mistake. It wasn't wrong place, wrong time. Unless it was a robbery and her things were immediately noticed as missing by the police, and pawned, and then immediately reported— I just don't think the police would be able to solve it _this_ fast. Mother said there was a lead and the case would be wrapped up," Emily said and rubbed at her eyes. "I just don't know why. I would call Will and ask him to access the information for me, but it's too late."

Mick tilted his head and tried to sort out what she was thinking. Normally, Emily had the best investigative instincts of anyone he had known. No, she wasn't perfect. She had make mistakes. But most of the time her gut feelings were right. "I think it is possible that it could be a botched crime, but it's unlikely. To solve it this quick there must have been a record of some sort of threat against her. Why don't you call up Garcia instead? She wouldn't care you woke her. Have her do a quick hack up?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Emily took a deep breath at the question. All she wanted was to immediately ask Garcia to hack police records so she could find out what had happened. She just needed to know. "I'm her boss now. I don't want to put her in that position."

"Emily," Mick sighed and wrapped an arm around her. "You're profiling your mother right now trying to find information in anything. You need to know. Waiting five hours is going to drive you absolutely mad. She'll never get caught."

"And what if she did? What if she makes a mistake because she's tipsy and it's so late? I can't ask her to do that. I would have to resign. There is no case. It's not like before with Matthew where ultimately Hotch made the call and could claim he saw something. It's an abuse of power and you know if I pull that shit again—"

"—I know," Mick interrupted in a soft voice. He knew what she meant. He knew the hassle she had went through whilst suspended. He didn't think Garcia would get caught, but Emily had been in serious jeopardy because of protecting Reid. She had been forced to discipline Alvez. Another misstep for the BAU would put them in serious trouble. The rest of their team would basically have to hope that Emily would be replaced by JJ, but she had been recently fired and rehired as well. "When you last spoke, did Fiona say anything strange? New boyfriend maybe?"

"No," Emily exhaustedly rubbed her eyes again. "She didn't mention anyone new. She didn't mention anything that worried her. She said she was doing great. She had been excited about this performance she had been invited to— My mother had gotten her tickets because it was being organized by the Japanese Embassy and Mother knows them well enough..."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Mick ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. It looked like they were going to have to wait until Emily felt comfortable calling Will the next morning.

"I wish Mother would've told me more. I wish I would've asked."

"You were shocked. Don't be hard on yourself," Mick reminded in low voice. "We could just turn off the lights, see what happens, or watch a film. I can show you the bug scene."

Emily gave him a pained smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I know you're tired. I'm exhausted too. Hopefully I'll just fall asleep."

Mick nodded and got out of bed to put the laptop on their dresser and turn off their light.

He had fallen asleep immediately. There was no way he was getting through another movie. Around fifteen minutes later Emily heard the same little voice call out, "Mummy? Daddy?"

"Come in, Meredith," Emily replied in her quietest voice, listening to sound of little feet against the floors. How was Mick quieter than their daughters? "Honey, what's wrong? Daddy is asleep so be sure to whisper."

"I had to go to the toilet and there was no more light," Meredith admitted sadly. She had a tough night. Scar had done a number on her.

Emily smiled at the little girl. She never wanted to coddle them in a way that stunted them, but she wanted to be there for her daughters and comfort them in a way her mother wasn't there for her. "You can sleep with us tonight, but you have to be very quiet because Daddy is very tired. Okay?"

"Okay," Meredith replied, relieved as she climbed into the bed over her mother and settled between her parents. She quickly turned on her stomach and reached out to flop her small arm against Emily's stomach. Emily had begun to run her hands over the little girl's back until she fell asleep.

While she did, Emily couldn't stop thinking there was something that didn't feel right. It felt the same way Matthew's case did years ago.

Fiona didn't call her.

She wasn't scared.

That meant, as far as Emily was concerned, there wasn't a clear cut path to her killer. If Fiona would've been suspicious she would've gone to Emily— the same way she did when her work friend had a stalker when they were both around thirty-five. So Fiona probably wasn't scared. She probably wasn't scared, but the case had been wrapped up before it had made the news? That seemed so fast. It seemed too fast.

* * *

Emily couldn't sleep all night. She had just laid there in bed thinking, careful to neither toss nor turn to avoid waking the sleeping child beside her. It hadn't been the night she had envisioned as she had tiptoed home from Rossi's wedding. She got out of bed at around five in the morning, careful to not rouse Mick or Meredith, and began to check to see if any morning stories about Fiona had come out. They hadn't.

She sat in the quiet house, alone. She had parked herself in front of the computer at her kitchen island. That was the only thing that she had lost when she had gotten pregnant: the silence. Ever since her and Mick had their daughters, there was always some sort of noise. Hell, ever since she had met Mick she had lost _silence_. Emily felt like she needed silence then more than ever. It had been challenging, to not bring work home with her. It was hard to go home after a day of seeing mutilated bodies and then cuddle her children with the same hands which had arrested the unsubs. But she did it because she was Emily Prentiss and she had to.

It was around six thirty when she had seen the first story. It was bare bones. It wasn't front page news. That was reserved for a story about failed trade negotiations and some sort of congressional feud. Emily found herself hating politics again for pushing Fiona to page two.

_Top Defense Attorney Slain _

It had said that Fiona Duncan, aged 47, had been slain at her home in Dupont Circle. She had been stabbed multiple times. There was a suspect in custody.

That was it.

Emily's third reading of the story had been interrupted by a whistle from Mick. It was a signal one of them was going to enter the room and give the other a hug or cuddle— an odd necessity because of their training. She felt his arms wrap around her from behind, his extra morning scruff scratching at the side of her cheek.

"Did you find anything?"

"Not really," Emily admitted with a sigh. His arms had become a little tighter at her response. "She was stabbed in her apartment. Police have said there was a suspect in custody, but there isn't much else besides some fluff about her career and parents."

Mick nodded and read the article himself over her shoulder. "Are you going to phone LaMontagne?"

"I think so. It's early. I want to do it before the girls wake up but it's only been," Emily looked down at her watch and groaned, "Five hours since I last saw them."

"You've done it for them. Make them pay you back the bloody favor," Mick reminded her gently. "Don't feel guilty. You saved that bloke's life. He owes you forever. Why do you think you let me get away with so much, eh?"

Emily rolled her eyes at his last comment, "Go put on clothes."

"Am I distracting ya, love?" He questioned with a smirk as he took a step back from her chair.

"You wish," Emily replied dryly, refusing to look at his body as she turned around to face him. "We're still trying to break Effy of her anti-clothes phase. Be useful for once."

"Once?" He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Such a cruel woman you are. And now our little nudist is my cock up?"

"She acts just like you."

"She looks just like you," Mick reminded pointedly.

"And that's what makes her so lovable," Emily teased with a grin before he leaned down to kiss her. "Is Meredith still in bed?" She questioned through their kiss.

"Yes," He replied with a peck. "I would be too if she didn't kick me in the side in her sleep," He admitted, eliciting a laugh from Emily. "A Swansea number ten with my organs that one is."

"Now you know what it feels like. They both kicked me for months, now it's your turn. Go away. I'm calling Will," Emily ordered playfully, grateful Mick was able to pull her out of her quick tailspin into hopelessness.

Mick started to walk away before he turned around. "Phoning another man. Should I be jealous?"

"It's just Will, but I'm calling my other boyfriend after him. That's the one you should worry about," Emily lied. She laughed when she saw Mick pretend he had just been struck in the heart. "I love you, but get out."

* * *

**What will Will find...**


	18. An Ordinary Morning?

**Sorry for any errors. I have to check back and edit later, but I wanted to get this chapter up.**

**it's a long one.**

* * *

"You've got Detective LaMontage," Will has answered just before the call was about to go to voicemail. His voice was even more gravelly than usual, laded with confusion and sleep.

"Hi, Will," Emily began awkwardly with a cringe. She anxiously tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter. She hardly ever called Will. She liked him well-enough, but they weren't friends. She was friends with JJ, but Will was 'a couple' friend. "It's Emily Prentiss."

"Sorry," Will groaned as he sat up in bed. "Is JJ's phone off? She's still asleep. You have cases while Rossi's on his honeymoon?"

"No," Emily sighed. She hated that she had disturbed him. She had two kids too. She knew how rare good sleep was when you were the parent of young kids. Henry was older, but Michael was right around Effy's age. "I'm sorry. I know it's really early, but I needed to ask you for a favor."

"Me?"

Emily opted to get right to the point. "My friend, Fiona— I don't know if you remember her. She was Reid's attorney—"

"—Yeah, I remember her." He yawned really loudly right into her ear.

"She was murdered a few days ago."

"I'm really sorry," He offered and looked to see if he should nudge JJ awake. "How can I help you with that?"

"My mother called to let me know, but she didn't really give me any details. I don't know what happened, and I need to know. She didn't— I just need to know," Emily cut herself and repeated firmly. "Her family doesn't want the FBI involved, and there's no reason why would we be, anyway. It's supposedly cut and dry, but I want to read the case files, and only a cop would…"

"Have access to those," Will nodded and finished for her. "I can do that for you."

Emily let out of a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. Of course, Will would do this for her. He was JJ's husband. "Thank you so much."

"I'll have to run to the office. Pick 'em up for you. I'm not on the case, but I can give you a printout."

"Thank you, there's no rush," Emily lied.

"No problem, see ya later, Emily" Will replied as they two ended the call.

"Emily?" JJ mumbled as she turned over to face the man. "Why is Emily calling you? We shouldn't have any cases."

"Chère, go back to bed."

"What's wrong?"

Will let out a sigh as he got out of bed. "Her friend, the attorney, she got murdered. Family doesn't want her in the investigation, but she wants the case files. Said I'd go pick 'em up for her."

"Fiona Duncan?"

"Yeah."

"Murdered?" JJ asked as she sat up. "What do you mean Murdered?"

"Emily said she was murdered," Will shrugged. "Hasn't come across my desk, but I'm not doubting her. I don't know how much I'll have. You know we go paper to computer."

"Yeah," JJ furrowed her brows and let out a whine as she got out of bed. "I'll come with you—"

"—Jennifer—"

"—You and Mick can take the kids somewhere. Get them out of the house so we can go over the case."

"I dunno," Will said hesitantly, "She didn't say she needed ya for this. The boys wanted to spend time with _you_."

"Will," JJ gave him a pointed look. Emily had done a lot for their family. She had gone above and beyond. She always went above and beyond. She was sure both of them would have been dead if Emily hadn't detonated the bomb or remembered 'Blackbird.'

"It's Emily?"

"It's Emily," She repeated, and the two got ready to head over to the Prentiss-Rawson house. "It's only 7:15 so we can shoot for nine."

* * *

"Mummy, where are the worms?" Effy had asked as she walked into the kitchen. No 'hello,' no 'good morning,' nothing of the sort. Just 'Mummy where are the worms?'

Emily turned around in the metal barstool, careful not to spill her very hot green tea. "No, you don't," She had laughed. She put her drink down and crotched down to press a kiss to her youngest daughter's forehead. As expected, her hair was also tangled because of no nighttime braid. Her pink pajamas with 'cool cats' printed all over them were rumpled. Emily smiled at the little girl's messy appearance. Her hands held the four-and-a-half year-old by her tiny shoulders. "What did Daddy tell you last night? Hm?"

"Daddy likes red better than pink."

"Effy?" Emily asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No eating worms," The little girl answered solemnly and looked down to the floor before she outstretched her arms, holding out her palms. "I just want to see them!"

"I don't believe you," Emily laughed again. It wasn't just because Effy was her daughter, and she had always lied in the most unconvincing voice ever. But Emily was able to easily pick up on Effy's deception because the expression the little girl wore was the same face Emily herself had each time she tried to lie about being 'fine' enough to leave a hospital.

"You would let Meredith see."

"Honey, I don't have any worms."

Effy didn't look convinced.

"Why would I have worms?"

"You have lots of stuff," Effy shrugged, disappointed there was not a worm to be found.

Emily had to shake her head to hide her wide smile at her daughter's odd interests. She was so completely opposite of her sister. "I can make you pancakes," Emily offered warmly.

"That are hard?" Effy had asked hopefully as she climbed on to the barstool, Emily holding Effy by her waist to steady her. The little girl flashed her mother the same smile Emily had spreading across her mirrored face.

Emily had sighed after letting a laugh out at the question. 'Hard pancakes' meant burned pancakes. They had eggs in them, and she didn't want to undercook them and poison her kids. They always ended up burnt. Most of her cooking did. Rossi had tried to help her, but gave up after one lesson. "Probably," Emily admitted with a chuckle as she walked over to the other side of the island towards the range.

"Okay," The little girl answered happily. She really liked burned food for some inexplicable reason.

A few minutes later Mick, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, walked into the kitchen, quick to observe Emily working over the stove. He winked at Effy, who paid no attention to him and stayed focused on her mother, before he went over to press a kiss to Emily's head. "What is the _horrid_ smell? Oh, it's Mummy cooking."

"Ha, ha, ha," Emily laughed sarcastically before she turned around and poked him with the whisk. "Isn't Daddy so funny?"

Effy just nodded at the question. "Mummy, I don't want you to go to the doctor again."

Emily shifted her gaze from her 'hard' pancakes to Mick, who just shrugged in response to her tilted head, which signaled her confusion at the request. Was their youngest daughter worried about her safety? "What do you mean?"

"You kissed Daddy now. You kiss Daddy lots," Effy stated as if it was the most obvious thing ever. She brought a tiny hand to her face, mirroring her Aunt Penny's facepalm. She was obviously aggravated her parents didn't seem to get what she meant. "When Harper— Harper S., not Harper H. I'm not friends with Harper H. anymore because she kicked Thomas after he tried to kiss her shoe and then told Ms. Backherm, but it was a dare."

"Bit of a narc that one is," Mick nodded along. Both he and Emily had heard that story a few days before.

"Baby, remember what I told you," Emily remarked, completely ignoring her partner. "You can't kiss someone if they don't ask you. Even then, kissing shoes..."

"—But Mummy," Effy interrupted in a serious voice, "What if it's a dare? You hafta do it."

"Do you 'hafta'?" Emily asked while Mick watched the discussion between the two Emily Prentisses in front of him. It would have been amusing if it…No, Mick thought it was really amusing.

"Yeah, what if they said they were gunna hit Daddy or I kiss a shoe?"

"Who? Who would say they would hit Daddy if you didn't kiss someone's shoe?" Emily questioned as she desperately tried to keep her laughter at bay. Was she really having this discussion?

"Gammy?" Effy offered with a shrug.

That was what did Emily in.

"Well she might have you there," Mick added with a laugh of his own.

"Gammy has my name and she met all the Presidents," Effy proudly reminded her mother.

"I know, baby. Trust me, Gammy reminds me _all the time_, because she's my Mummy. Just like I'm yours. Remember?"

Effy nodded along happily to the question. She hadn't remembered. She only thought of adults as they related to her.

"Why don't you want me to go to the doctor?" Emily asked as she tried to get the conversation back on track. She really needed to make sure her daughters weren't worried about her job.

"Harper S. said when Mummies and Daddies kiss they go to the doctor and then they get a baby. Her Mummy and new Daddy— her Mummy said she doesn't have to call him 'Daddy' but he is— kissed and they got this baby and now Harper S. has to share with her alla time. You're my Mummy, and Meredith, too, not new baby. I don't want it."

Emily had to clamp her lips together and bite down to keep any laughter from escaping at the little girl's logic. She supposed it did make sense to a degree…

Meanwhile, Mick scratched at his scruff at the train of thought. "What about Daddy, eh? You are fine with sharing me then?"

"I dunno," Effy sighed. She didn't know why her dad didn't seem to get her mom was the main issue here. "I don't like Uncle Derek's baby. She was loud, and got to yell in the house and I can't, and was not nice like Meredith, and Aunt Penny was busy alla time." Effy spit out with a shake of her head. "I'm the baby…and a big girl," She made sure to add, but her voice was still a little worried.

Emily just chuckled at the little segue in their conversation, and walked back to crouch down and wrap Effy up in her arms. Sometimes she would find herself deep in conversation with her little girls and look over to Mick with that same baffled, loving expression they shared. That expression which meant they could never— would never— be irritated with their two ridiculous daughters, because they had _wanted _them so badly. Mick had desperately wanted another child after Meredith, admitting to Emily that Jenna had kept him sane and grounded after his parents' deaths. And after she had reflected on her lonely childhood as an only child, Emily felt the same way. So they _tried _and _tried _to have the absurd little girl in front of them. They had wished and prayed to have a chance to have a conversation with a jealous child over the prospect of a hypothetical baby she would have to share her parents with. "You and Meredith will always be our babies. Even when you're annoyed and want to be all grown up, _always_. But, honey, sharing isn't bad and we want to try to work on that, okay?"

"Okay."

"Daddy and I are not having any more babies. I'm too old!" Emily teased and earned a giggle from Effy as she poked her on the tip of the nose. "We had to wait a very long time to have you. We wanted you very much, right Daddy?"

"Right," Mick smiled and watched on as Effy played with the ends of her mother's hair and held them up against her cheek.

"More than Meredith?" Effy asked hopefully, before she slunk back in her barstool at the pointed look from Emily. "I'm just being silly. Where is Meredith?"

"She's asleep, baby," Emily answered as she rushed back to flip the pancake she momentarily forget about. Yeah, that one was beyond 'hard.' It wasn't even edible, but what she supposed to do when her daughter was asking about babies? "Do not go up there and wake her up, okay? You can go watch cartoons for half an hour."

"Can you come?"

Emily smiled sadly at the little girl. "In a little while. I have to talk to Daddy about work. Go on, baby. And sit on the sofa, not in directly in front of the T.V."

"I can put on football for ya, darling. Premier league is on."

"No," Effy huffed as her dad helped her off of the tall barstool and she walked off to watch television in the other room. She was not getting stuck watching another football match with Mick. That was Meredith's job as far as she was concerned.

Mick laughed at the little girl's rejection. "Absolute heartbreaker like her Mummy. I thought I should be jealous of your mistress, but maybe I should be jealous of you and how you've usurped me as the favorite."

"Will is bringing over the thing later," Emily changed the subject and handed the spatula over to Mick. She moved off to the side to lean against the counter as he cooked.

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Sluggish bastard," Mick had teased good-naturedly, earning a laugh from Emily.

"He's doing me a favor," She scolded with a smirk. "You truly are awful."

"Do you feel better?"

Emily bit her bottom her lip and thought about the question. One of her best friends had just been murdered and she had no idea why or how. Well, technically, she had the 'how,' but what she wanted was the 'why.' It just felt off. Then again, it was hard to stay in a dark place when you had two small children depending on you, and an annoyingly cheerful partner. "I'm okay. She was— She was stabbed multiple times."

"I know," Mick said softly. He moved over to give her a hug and press a soft kiss to her temple. He whispered into her ear, "I know you don't want the girls to see you gutted and in a state, but it's okay to be sad. Your mate was just killed."

Emily just nodded in reply, but he could tell she didn't necessarily agree. "It's not their job to comfort me. They're little girls. They're just babies."

* * *

Breakfast had been fairly normal, given the circumstances. Meredith had finally come down the stairs for pancakes. She had taken all of Mick's decent ones, and for some reason Effy had wanted all the burnt ones Emily had made. Meanwhile, Emily had just sat at the table, drinking another cup of tea. She hadn't felt like eating anything.

JJ had texted her to say she was coming with Will with some of the information they were able to get for her. Will had agreed to take the boys to a movie, and had invited Mick to take the girls. Fortunately, Mick had agreed to get the girls out of the house so she and JJ could go over any crime scene photos and police reports. The two profilers had found themselves at the big, walnut dining table in Emily's dining room. The room was painted a calming gray, but the atmosphere in the room was anything but. It was nervous and frantic. The two women were desperately trying to read everything, see everything before the kids were back. JJ was seated on one side of the large table, Emily on the other. Their pile of papers was spread out all over. Emily couldn't stop staring at the picture of Fiona in her bed, stabbed to death. Blood had seeped and stained the white bed all around her body. She almost looked like an angel, with a halo of red.

"It's bad," JJ admitted as she handed over a preliminary medical examiner report. "Will wasn't able to get the most recent M.E. report. This one isn't complete."

"They're leaving something out of the reports. Something only the killer would know," Emily remarked absentmindedly as she read the page over. 'Attempted vivisection' was written the in the report.

"Will said there had been some leaks lately, so on the bigger or more violent cases they're using paper reports and transfer those to the system later. Given her reputation as an attorney and…" JJ droned on. She could tell Emily wasn't listening to her. "...He made a mistake. He nicked an artery. Em, she wasn't alive for all of it."

Emily nodded sadly at the comment. Her eyes were glazer over and clouded with tears she was trying to keep suppressed. "He made a mistake."

"On the page I have," JJ cleared her throat nervously. It just felt so incredibly unfair. "The exact name isn't listed, but he took something."

"Valuable?"

JJ wasn't sure if the answer was a 'yes' or a 'no.' "He experimented with her— the body. He took a bone. I think he was young."

Emily just closed her eyes at the newest piece of information, forcing herself to focus on something else she had found. "The suspect is Guillermo Alarcón. More specifically a suspect hired by Guillermo Alarcón. They'll probably never find him."

"They're probably hoping Alarcón will talk."

Emily scoffed at the idea. D.C. police couldn't be **that** stupid. "He will never. He's _someone _here, but back home? His family wouldn't last a week if he turned on his bosses who are 'over there.' He knows that."

JJ exhaled sharply at the comment. What had Fiona Duncan gotten herself into? What was Emily going to get herself into? "What's the connection between them?"

"She could practice in New York, too. That was where she was defending him. She was his defense attorney on a case involving distribution and murder charges. He's up in Rikers. It says that Fiona's paralegal and an assistant both had said she had received death threats from him in recent months. She didn't say anything to me…"

"Em," JJ ordered in a firm voice. "There was nothing you could do about this." Emily didn't reply, so JJ opted to ask a question to the brunette instead to try to change the subject. "Does that name— Guillermo Alarcón— mean anything else to you?"

Emily pinned a strand of loose hair behind her ear, "Yeah. He was based out of Arizona and California. He's responsible for killing two U.S. Marshals...as well as the kidnap and murder of an FBI field agent. Still no evidence on any of those kills. He's a top guy within the Valdez cartel, but he's not _the_ top guy. His bosses sent him to set up a new base out of Baltimore and New York. They're trying to bring black tar into the South. Everyone in West Virginia is dying from fentanyl in the white heroin coming from the East. They're thinking they could capitalize on the fear. It's the same fucking thing," Emily sighed. Why was Fiona defending this guy? And just as she was about to ask herself that, something else came to her instead, "He— the hitman— he tortured her. That's what the method he used amounts to. Alarcón hired a hit man to kill her, but you said yourself he was young? He was inexperienced. He didn't know what he was doing, not to the degree he did it."

"Keep going," JJ instructed, wondering where the older woman was going. Reid and Rossi were typically the only ones who could pick up on Emily's hunches straightaway.

"Why have her killed?"

"Because she messed up his case."

"If she messed up his case wouldn't that mean he would want an appeal?"

JJ thought about the question, "Yeah?"

"So you think she should've won," Emily started as she stood up and had begun to pace around the room, "You think: this attorney messed up my case. I am guilty, but I should be out free. If he thought he could be out, why would he risk it by hiring someone inexperienced? It's not about there being a hitman—"

"—Why this hitman?" JJ finished.

"You said yourself he was probably young."

"He played with the body in a way an experienced killer wouldn't."

Emily just shook her head at the situation. "Guillermo Alarcón has probably had dozen— no hundreds— of people killed. He doesn't know a hitman who is more experienced? He gets away with killing a Fed, but is so careless he doesn't get away with killing her? Why risk getting caught when he thinks he could get out? Why this way?"

This is where Emily had lost the blonde. JJ softened her voice and expression towards her long-term friend, "Well, to send a message. That's why he had her killed anyway. It's a sign to not mess up. That's why he took the bone...Em, they know it's him, but they can't do anything about it. There's no physical evidence. He did get away with it. He didn't get caught."

"But he could have? There could have been prints or a mistake. Why take that risk with an inexperienced killer who could have been connected to him? Why take that risk when there are other guys on the payroll?"

"But there wasn't prints. Emily, you know how this hierarchy works. Even if they found the hitman, he would never flip. You just told me that yourself."

"It's still not right," Emily bit her bottom lip in contemplation. She tried to put Fiona out of her mind. This was just a victim. She didn't know her. It was not Fiona Duncan. This is the victim from a case. "I have this feeling that it isn't right. She was alive when he tortured her."

"Em—"

"—This cartel doesn't do this. There is a method. Most of their kills, especially here in the States, are precise. Any mutilations are done for counter-forensic purposes. They normally kill first and then, post-mortem, do whatever they want to do to send whatever message. They have officers paid off here I know, but it's not quite like the power they have across the border. As horrible as it is, there's a method, JJ. It's easy to blame the cartel for every murder, every problem, but there was no method to this. He tried to dissect her body and failed. That was risky. And why authorize a kill like that when you're sitting in a prison you think you're unfairly stuck in? Why do you change your foolproof method suddenly?"

"Emily," JJ had begun, her voice still soft and gentle, "I think you make some good points, but you see murder and you think 'serial.' We all do. But everything can easily be explained away."

"The motive seems weak too," Emily admitted as she picked at her fingernails. "Fiona represented some truly horrible people. How many death threats do you think came from that? And what came of them?"

"Not everyone is Guillermo Alarcón," JJ reminded her. That was true. Not everyone was Guillermo Alarcón. There were violent psychopaths, and then there was Guillermo Alarcón.

"Jaje," Emily said in a quiet voice. She had finally stopped pacing and instead was leaning against the table. The blonde could see the dark circles around her eyes. It was clear that Emily hadn't slept at all the night before. "It's too sloppy to be him."

JJ massaged her temples, concerned about Emily's determination. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to ask around," Emily merely replied after they heard Mick's car pull into the garage. They quickly started to pack up the files, but Emily lingered at the picture of Fiona's body. "I'll start with her assistant, Donna."

"Start?"

"Start."

JJ inhaled sharply at what Emily had just implied, "And Guillermo Alarcón?"

"I have to," Emily merely stated in a flat voice.

JJ thought about telling the other woman she didn't_ have to,_ but she knew Emily did. Emily had known Fiona Duncan since she was only a few years older than Jack Hotchner. Fiona was one of Emily's oldest friends. Fiona had dropped everything, including her fees, to represent Spence as a favor to Emily. Fiona had been the one who had forced Emily out the night she had run into— and gotten pregnant by— Mick. There was no way Emily Prentiss was going to let her murder go.

How could she?

* * *

**Is Guillermo involved or is something else going on entirely?**

**Any predictions? Should Emily trust her gut? **

**Thanks to everyone for reading and for all your reviews! Always nice to know when people are interested and invested in a story. **


	19. When Guillermo Met Fiona

It had been one of the last days the team had been completely pulled off of rotation. Rossi was due back from his honeymoon. Luke was supposed to be back from a trip to Barbados. Tara had just come back from Italy. Spencer Reid had gone to visit an old friend in New Orleans. Matt had been completely M.I.A., preoccupied with his children and pregnant wife. And Garcia and JJ had both spent most of their time off with Emily, for different reasons. While JJ had been around to offer small pieces of advice on Fiona's case, Penelope Garcia had found herself spending most of her time off playing with Effy and Meredith, who were both recently on summer break from school.

It proved to be a challenging situation for Emily. Before, when Mathew had died, Emily had been able to go to Hotch. Hotch was able to give them permission to poke around and, although it wasn't exactly 'by the book,' it didn't look _as_ bad because it wasn't _his friend. _But if Emily tried to authorize an investigation a family didn't want? An investigation she wasn't invited in on by the police? Into a case that was essentially solved? The team would surely be pulled back into chaos. It would look out of control because it would have been out of control— a unit chief unilaterally deciding to open investigations and appropriate government money into the death of a friend.

So, no, Emily hadn't asked Garcia to hack into any files. She hadn't asked her to do anything as her boss. She had asked one of her best friends' husband for help. That was purely on 'personal time.'

"What's been up with you, Gumdrop?" Garcia questioned Emily with the raise of a single sculpted eyebrow. The two women were drinking wine in the downstairs sitting room. Mick was upstairs giving the girls their baths, offering to give Emily a break. Truthfully, the girls had asked him if she was sick because she had been so distracted and tired. It was something Garcia evidently had picked up on too. She had seen saw how Emily had been holed up in her office while Garcia and the girls had played water balloons in their small backyard. Emily rarely was shut away when she was able to be home with her kids, unless there was a problem. "Don't say 'nothing,'" Garcia warned.

Emily looked down at the cream, patterned rug below her feet. Fiona had sent her a picture of it and had told Emily to buy it. "My friend, Fiona Duncan, was killed a few days ago."

"Oh, no, honey," Garcia quickly put down her wineglass and embraced Emily. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Emily shook her head before checking over to the stairs to make sure no little feet were about to step down. "She was murdered. The police are convinced that one of her clients did it. I'm— I'm not."

"What do I need to do?"

Emily smiled at the question. "Nothing, right now there's nothing you can do. There's no hacking to be done. I didn't want to ask you to unless you had to. I got the files from Will—"

"—Come through our Louisiana Prince!" Garcia squealed happily, earning a small chuckle from Emily.

"They weren't complete, but besides the M.E. report, I don't need any of their shitty work. They want it to be Guillermo Alarcón. The police are convinced a man named Guillermo Alarcón hired her hit from prison. She had been representing him on a case in New York. It makes sense if you're sloppy. It makes sense if you focus on him only and not the hitman. They think she lost his case and he was mad enough to have her killed. But he didn't go to his normal guy. To fit the profile of a young, inexperienced, sadistic killer, he would've had to hire someone new to do it."

"Hitman?"

"Alarcón is in Rikers," Emily yawned and rubbed her tired, bleary eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well for days by that time. "I got a hold of Fiona's old assistant. She agreed to meet me at a coffee place tomorrow afternoon. Fiona had gotten a death threat from Alarcón, but I want to know the extent of it." Garcia just nodded at the older woman.

"So...We know what the police thinks, but what does Chief 007 think?"

Emily contemplated the question. She wasn't sure exactly what her working theory was. Someone who was young, someone angry, sadistic. He was definitely male. He would have been strong enough to subdue Fiona. She wasn't big, but she was fit. Maybe he wasn't strong, but he was at least young. She figured it was likely one of his first kills, but it was elaborate. He was curious. He had been researching. He took a trophy. Was he a hitman? That she wasn't sure about. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. He was a burgeoning serial killer though, that she was sure of. He had bigger plans, and they didn't involve Guillermo Alarcón, whether he was hired by him or not.

"I'm open to all possibilities," Emily finally said. "I have a working profile, but I don't have enough information yet."

"I wish you would've told me sooner," Garcia admitted with a small sigh after a few moments of silence had passed. She was disappointed the brunette hadn't gone to her.

"I don't want to put you in a bad position," Emily reminded in a gentle voice. "It puts the whole team in a bad position— Me using my position to investigate a personal case that I haven't been invited in on. Even the family doesn't want us looking into it."

Garcia furrowed her brow in confusion at the part. "What?"

Emily bit her bottom lip and thought about the question. "Fiona was a free spirit. She wasn't really into settling down. She never wanted kids or any of that. She liked work and traveling. We always had that in common. I think her parents might worry what we would find— Not that she had done anything crazy!" Emily was quick to defend, "But her family is not entirely unlike mine. And I think when you have the police telling you they have the person who did it, and on the surface it makes sense, people like her family don't want dirty secrets getting out." Garcia just nodded at the explanation. She didn't agree with it, but she knew what Emily was saying. "I'm going to follow up on some things. I'm hoping I can find something to be able to put Guillermo Alarcón aside. Then we can work up a filtering program or something. I think we have a budding serial on our hands."

"And _that's_ different than impeding on an investigation involving your friend," Garcia stated as it had all clicked. It was office politics. Garcia couldn't help but feel bad for her longtime friend. She had known Emily for nearly fifteen years, and one of the things the woman had hated most was politics. Now she had to step back on a case involving one of her oldest friends because of appearances and not 'stepping on the police's toes,' A.K.A politics.

* * *

The following afternoon Emily walked into the small, downtown coffee shop by Fiona's old office. She had met up with Fiona dozens of times there before. It had felt wrong to be there without her, talking behind her back to her employee.

Fiona's assistant, Julie, was dressed in a navy blue skirt and a white sleeveless top. She was around twenty-six. She looked to be incredibly small, both slim and short. She had nervously smashed herself all the way into the seat closest to the shop window.

Emily flashed the young woman a reassuring smile before she slid into the seat across from her. She had looked even worse for wear up close, completely lost. She probably looked about as bad as Emily felt.

Julie stuck out her hand and greeted Emily, "Agent Prentiss."

"Right now I'm just Emily," Emily reminded her and gave her another sad smile. "I'm sorry to have to reach out to you like this."

"No, I'm glad you did," Julie admitted and chewed on her nails. She looked more nervous than she should have. "I probably sound stupid, but I'm scared."

Emily leaned forward on the table and lowered her voice, "Why? What do you know?"

"Nothing!" Julie was quick to reply, a little too loudly for being in public. "Do you have kids?" Emily nodded at the question. "Then you know. I have a son, Anthony, he's three…" The younger woman drifted off and spoke in hushed voice. "I know it sounds stupid, but I was with her all the time. I'm worried if whoever did it— if they wanted her dead— what if I'm next?"

Emily tilted her head at the statement. "Why do you think this happened?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm worried. I was with her all the time."

"I know," Emily quietly replied as she patted the other woman's shaking hand across the table. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything. It doesn't mean you have to be scared. You're not convinced the police have the killer though?"

"Guillermo is…" Julie drifted off again, obviously trying to search for the right words. "He's a devil. I know that. Fiona knew that."

"Why did she take the case?" It wasn't exactly relevant to what she had been trying to find out, but Emily had been wondering it for her own sake. Why did Fiona take his case?

"Billable hours," Julie admitted with a sigh. "Sometimes we'll do a case like your friend's or someone else pro-bono. She's helped some of those innocent project things. She takes on— Took on. She took on this case because it pays for the others. Fiona also believed for you to do your job she had to do hers. That was how the justice system worked, she said. And— And normally these guys get caught and they know they're caught. I know from the outside it looks crazy, but it's not as dangerous as you might think. Guys like Guillermo Alarcón have a lot of money, and they don't normally do something like this."

"Why is that?"

"He wanted to be extradited to Mexico. He thought if he could he could 'break out,'" Julie admitted with a laugh. It had happened before. It wasn't the craziest hope in the world. "He knew he was going to prison the minute they got him. He was thinking Fiona could manage getting him back to Mexico and she couldn't. He was pissed off, okay? But he wouldn't kill her because of that, because that would be another U.S. crime. It was a pipe dream to begin with, but he's completely thrown it away now."

Emily nodded along to what the woman had said. "You told the police he threatened her."

"He told her 'you're dead.' That's it. It's how Guillermo talks. I told the police because I had to. I had to tell them everything I knew, but I also told them I didn't think it meant anything serious. They asked if anyone had threatened her life and I said—"

"—You said 'yes.'" Emily finished.

"But nothing ever happens to the top defense attorneys."

"Has she had threats before?"

Julie laughed at the question like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Fiona defends— Defended, I'm sorry. I'm not used to talking about her like she's—"

"—In the past," Emily agreed in a tired, slightly defeated voice.

"Yeah…She defended violent criminals. Most of her clients were guys. She was expensive. Most of her clients were violent, wealthy guys. They weren't used to being told 'no' by anyone, not even the police. To actually be put away was a huge shock for a lot of them, and they would tell her they were going to kill her, or she would pay for it, or things like that. Nothing ever came of it though. They were just assholes."

"Julie, I need to know," Emily said very clearly. She had been 'Emily' for most of the meeting, but right then it was time to be 'Agent Prentiss.' "I need to know if you two were involved in anything that might have pissed someone off. Did Fiona do anything unusual in the days leading up to her death? Even small things, just think. Did she cut someone off? Did she hit someone's car? Did she have any work done on her house recently? Did she get any threats that were out of the ordinary? Did she have a new boyfriend?"

"She was seeing a guy. He was a surgeon she met at a Christmas party. He was married. His wife was a really rich donor. Otherwise? No."

"How old was he?"

"Like sixty," Julie admitted.

As soon as Emily's interest was piqued, it dropped. There was no way a surgeon would have botched her vivisection. He wouldn't have nicked anything. He wouldn't have felt an interest in experimenting with her body either. And the wife? Well, there was no way a sixty year-old woman could have had the stamina to do what had happened to Fiona.

"If you think of anything else, please, call me," Emily instructed the other woman and slid her card across the table.

"I will."

That was how their talk had ended. As she walked away, Emily had been sure of two things. Number one, the police had no idea what they were doing. Number two, she didn't think Guillermo Alarcón was involved, but she needed to be sure. She needed to go to Rikers.

It hadn't even been a question. Emily had decided the second she had left the coffee shop that she was going to talk to Guillermo Alarcón. The goal was two-fold— three-fold, even. First of all, Emily was sure this unsub fit the profile of a budding serial killer. He was evolving. The more she thought about it, the more she realized what she had told Garcia had been wrong. Fiona wasn't his first kill. He had probably killed before, and then moved on to body experimentation. It was strange. She wasn't sure why she felt compelled to think that way, but Emily was sure that Fiona's murder was inspired Frank Breifkopf's methods. It was sloppier, younger, but the comparisons were there. It was troubling because Emily was sure this killer was trying to experiment to see what he liked. It was concerning because no matter what he landed on, it was going to be bad.

Secondly, the meeting was to officially rule out Guillermo Alarcón as a suspect, at least in their investigation. Granted, there wasn't a formal investigation yet. They hadn't been invited on a case, but Emily was sure there would be another case. He would kill again, and having the original suspect eliminated would only aid that future investigation.

Finally, Fiona Duncan was victim number one. That was how Emily had to categorize her. And as such, Emily needed to know exactly what was going on in Fiona's life before she died. Guillermo Alarcón had been a big part of that life. She had spent most of her waking hours in her final days with that man or thinking about his case. Aside from Julie, Guillermo was the person who had spent the most time with Fiona before her death.

Maybe he _knew something_ he didn't even realize he knew.

* * *

She had told him matter-of-factly, as if she was going to Target or Whole Foods.

Unsurprisingly, he hadn't taken it well.

"This is bloody mad, Emily. This is absolutely idiotic! Jesus fucking Christ!" Mick ranted in the couple's shared master bathroom. It had become the default area for any heated arguments. It was the farthest space away from the girls' bedrooms.

Emily rolled her eyes at his outburst. She stayed leaning against the double vanity, arms crossed. "I have to go. Don't do this. We've been together for seven years and you've never done this."

Mick paced around the small space in frustration. "You've never been so distant in the seven years we've been together! You've never investigated a case on your own, involving the fucking cartel before either. You're going to Rikers alone. If I had any sense I'd—"

"—No," Emily quickly cut the man off. "You're not coming with. Just me and him, that's the only way I'll get him to talk."

"You're being absolutely fucking— there is no word for it. Get your damn team involved."

"I don't know if I have anything yet."

"You don't even think Guillermo is involved anyway. Why the hell do you have to speak with him?"

"I need to confirm this. I need to be sure before I get the team involved in this. I need to look at him and be sure."

Mick gestured towards the ceiling at her statement, "What makes you think he'll talk to you anyway?"

"He agreed to see me."

"Oh right," Mick laughed bitterly. "He'll see you. That doesn't mean he'll talk. You're going to fucking Rikers. I'm sure the whole damn Island wants to see you!"

"Do not do that," She repeated in a firm voice. She wasn't yelling like he was, but she was harsh. "Don't think because I'm a woman I cannot do this. This is my job. I've done it for years before you and I could do it for years after."

"Is that what this is? You're going to put yourself—"

"—No," Emily cut the man off immediately. "I'm not doing this to **prove** anything. I'm doing it because it's my job. There is something wrong about this case. There has been since the second I found out. Someone has to ask questions, and the only person who has some answers in this case is Guillermo Alarcón. Do you honestly think he's done? Do you? You're a profiler." Mick had refused to answer her. "He'll talk to me." She said in an incredibly rough voice. "I am telling you as a courtesy because you're my partner and I love you, but I am not asking your permission and I never will. I know what I can handle."

"Do you?" Mick asked pointedly. "Do you know?" Emily didn't answer his question, which prompted him to once again shake his head in frustration. "There's no evidence to prove he didn't do this—"

"—And there's no evidence to prove that he did!"

"Christ, it's a bloody fool's errand, Emily," Indignation was obvious in his voice.

"A fool's errand? Really Mick? You want—"

"—They have the guy in custody."

"That's fucking P.R. semantics and you know it!" Emily bit back. "They have 'a guy' in custody, because of a previous crime, with no chance of charging him for _this crime_ because there is no evidence—"

"—And when he killed that Agent, or those Marshals, was there evidence of that?" He asked with a scoff of his own. And then he said it. "You're acting just like you did when—"

"—Do not say that name to me," Emily cautioned with a pointed look. "Do not say that name I know that's on the tip of your tongue. You don't get to throw that in my face."

Mick just rolled his eyes at her rebuke and jerked the bathroom door open to walk away.

He had opted to sleep in the guest room that night.

Logically, he knew she was right, but he didn't like it. He didn't like that she didn't have backup. He didn't like that they were possibly getting involved in a case that involved a drug cartel known for exterminating anyone who got in their way. He liked Fiona, but he _loved_ Emily. If it was between Emily's safety and Fiona's case going unsolved, that didn't even warrant a ten-second discussion as far as Mick Rawson was concerned. It was always going to be Emily Prentiss.

* * *

**Is Emily on to something? Who is the 'fairytale' man? **

**Will She and Mick work it out ?**

**Emily is going to Rikers next chapter...**


	20. When Emily Met Guillermo

**A few notes- **

**This chapter is long, but I felt people would be disappointed if I divided it and made them wait for the Rikers interview. Sorry for any errors. I did edit, but sometimes you miss things. **

**There is a little Spanish in this chapter. I do not speak Spanish, so this was done with the help of translation tools. If it's incorrect I apologize. The English 'translation' will be at the bottom of the page.**

**Also, there's a 'Mature' scene in this chapter. The last of the story. **

**Does that mean anything about these two and their fates...Who knows?**

* * *

It was around six in the morning when Emily woke up. This wasn't official BAU business, and therefore there would be no jet. It was going to be just her, alone, on an 8:15 train to New York. She had opted to stay in bed for a few more minutes, but it looked like someone else had awoken too.

Mick had quietly opened the bedroom door, and tiptoed into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush. Emily rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's sneaking around. The fact that he was sneaking around like a seventeen year-old who missed curfew probably meant he knew he was wrong. Then again, he wasn't entirely wrong. Emily understood why he worried. It was kind of a worrisome situation. It was never a great idea to be a federal agent on the radar of the cartel. However, Emily didn't take any of this lightly. She was a grown adult. She made decisions all day long for her team, and she could make them for herself as well. Her gut had told her something was off about this case. Something compelled her to keep pushing, and that meant _something_. Deep down he knew it too, hence the creeping around to avoid another fight before she left.

Emily quietly got out of the bed and closed her bedroom door. She then swiftly moved to the bathroom and caught Mick looking for his razor. If his vanity drawer hadn't been such a mess, he could've escaped in time. She heard him sigh as she closed and locked the bathroom door behind her. Mick knew there was no escape.

"Are you going to lambast me again and call me a prat?" Mick asked in a soft voice as he turned and looked up from the drawer to Emily. He had deep bags around his eyes, and his boxer briefs were wrinkled and mussed like he had been tossing most of the night.

"A prat would be putting it mildly," Emily replied with the raise of an eyebrow.

"I know. I am sorry." Mick sighed and crossed his arms. "You said some things too. 'Do it after me.'"

Emily merely nodded to acknowledge his complaints. "It's who I am, Mick."

"I know."

"You have to keep trusting me. You can't stop after seven years because you've given me enough," She added as she ran her fingers through his hair. Her voice stayed firm, but her touch was gentle.

"You're right. I know that, but I was terrified. I'm still terrified. I don't know what I would do if anything happened."

"That's the job. That has always been the job. I've never asked you to walk away for me—"

"—I know, but I'm never in danger."

"Mick," She soothed, dropping her stern demeanor. "It's going to be okay."

"And if it wasn't?"

Emily sighed tiredly at the question. "You would keep going, because you would have to. You have to do it for them. It's the same thing we promised each other seven years ago, and we keep promising every time something happens."

"It's not easy."

"I think the second _that_ gets easier to think about, it probably means our relationship is over," Emily laughed. He scratched his jaw in contemplation at the statement, still avoiding eye contract. "Mick, it's very distracting when you do that," She stated matter-of-factly and moved closer to him.

"What?"

"When you scratch your scruff like that. Makes me want to 'snog that nose,'" She teased and imitated his accent.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm," She smirked at him. "Remember, I locked the bathroom door."

"You did, didn't you?" He rhetorically asked with a mischievous grin. She let out a laugh when he lifted her onto the bathroom vanity. "You look absolutely smashing."

"Mick," She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him closer and ran her hands back up into his hair. "I'm wearing sweats and an old shirt."

"It's not quite the tight trousers, but it will do," He chuckled against her neck. "I always sleep with my top off, but I'd prefer if you slept without yours," He admitted as he slipped his hands under her shirt and slowly moved the ratty, old thing up. He threw it somewhere on the floor, and moved his hands back to her bare chest. He let out a very unarrogant whimper as she used her legs to draw his lower body impossibly closer to hers. "What time do you have to be there?"

"8:15," She rasped out as he ground his erection into the thin fabric of her pants.

"Steal the jet."

"I can't," She laughed.

"Blame it on Reid. They'll never fire him."

"They tried to last year."

Mick hissed as she bit his earlobe, "Well...The lad would become a billionaire anyway."

The kissing and heavy petting had went on for another few minutes before he finally took off her panties and sweatpants in one move.

She let out a satisfied groan when he finally entered her, and clutched at his shoulders and he moved in and out of her. They were both flushed and sweaty when she suddenly gasped it out: "I know."

She had been **this **close to coming, so Emily was a little disappointed when Mick stopped his movement to simply _look_ at her. She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him into a deep, desperate kiss. It was a kiss that she had hoped showed him how much she loved him. Emily loved him, and she knew he was worried. She knew he had a right to be worried, and she was a little worried too— Not about Guillermo. She was worried she was losing the part of herself she had fought so hard to finally have.

It wasn't because he was a profiler and he could suddenly read her mind— No, Mick got what she meant by those two simple words_—I know— _because _Emily_ was the one who had said them_. _It was Emily who had desperately kissed him, and breathed into him, and adjusted her body to draw him into her even deeper. She didn't have words for him, and in that moment Mick didn't need them because he knew her. Mick just nodded and continued to move inside her. In the end, he came before she did, but after he moved his fingers to stroke her clit, the sounds of muffled moaning and panting continued from the bathroom until she had finished.

"I love you very much," Mick reminded her in a rasped voice, kissing at her neck before he eventually pulled out of her.

She had kept her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Mick, you're annoying, and I love you too."

Mick merely laughed at the way Emily had put it. "I quite like this. I'll be a stupid wanker all the time."

"Well, it's gotten you this far so why stop now?" Emily teased with a grin before kissing him again.

He quietly spoke up after his breathing had evened out. "Fiona brought you out to that pub that night. I'll trust you with everything in this because I do owe her that."

Emily nodded her head against his, and just like that their moment was over. Because right before Emily was about to invite him into the shower with her, they heard a voice calling out for them.

"Mummy! Effy threw up and I saw it and now I don't feel good too!"

Mick groaned at the interruption. He quickly pointed out, "She called for you."

Emily swatted at his shoulder and nodded over towards the door, "Mick come on. I'll be late."

Mick just rolled his eyes and put his underwear back on before walking out the door. Emily smiled as she heard the two talking as they walked out of her and Mick's room.

"Let's go, darling. I'll take you back to your room, and then I'll see how shambolic looking your sister is."

"Her room stinks."

"Well that's just lovely, innit?"

* * *

She wasn't sure if it was because of the train, or if it was because she was traveling to New York, but the name Frank Breitkopf popped into Emily's mind as soon as she walked through the train station. Once again, Emily thought there were similarities. It had been much sloppier, but the similarities were still there.

The way the unsub had tried, unsuccessfully, to kill Fiona.

The way he— Emily was positive her unsub was a man— had taken a bone.

She wasn't sure if he had taken a rib. She would find that out later when she had enough to have Garcia hack those medical examiner files, which brought her back from Frank Breitkopf to Guillermo Alarcón.

One monster at a time.

She was just about to flip through a list of known murders Guillermo Alarcón had ordered before a call came in on her cell phone. She answered it before checking who had called her. "Prentiss."

"Mummy, Miss Joy said I can talk on the phone to you," Effy happily replied from the other end of the call.

Emily smiled at her little girl's voice, and closed her file. "Yeah, baby, you can always call me. Are you feeling better?" The sick little girl had, fortunately, fallen back asleep by the time Emily was dressed to leave. She had kissed her goodbye, but Effy hadn't even moved.

"Yes!" Effy replied cheerily. "Miss Joy let me stay in PJs and watch the lion movie again and she gave me crackers, but Daddy told me I couldn't have O's and Meredith went to her room but she said I couldn't come in and then I was sad and Miss Joy told me I can call you," She spit out all at once.

"You had a very busy morning then, hm?"

"Uh huh."

"Effy, what did you eat last night? You were fine after dinner." Emily heard her daughter grumbling on the other end of the phone. "Baby, you're not in trouble, but you need to tell me."

"It was Michael!"

Emily rolled her eyes at her little girl blaming JJ's son. "What happened with you and Michael?"

"He gave me his old Halloween sweeties," Effy admitted with a small huff. "I went to bed and I didn't sleep and I ate them all."

Emily had to bite her bottom lip to hold back a laugh. Of course her own personal Mick Jr. had eaten a bunch of eight-month old candy Michael LaMontagne didn't want anymore. "How many candy did you have?"

"All it."

"How many pieces is 'all of it?'"

"I dunno."

Emily could just picture her little girl shrugging at the question. "Could you fit it in your hands?"

"No."

"Oh God," Emily sighed with an eye roll. Effy probably couldn't even count that high. "Elizabeth, you can't do that ever again, okay? It will make you very sick. Mummy and Daddy were very worried about you. We never want you to be sick. And you don't want to feel sick either. Remember how bad you felt this morning?"

"Yeah."

"So the next time Daddy or I find a stash of candy we didn't give to you, you'll lose your Aunt Penny pajamas for the week."

"No," Effy gasped in a voice so sad Emily immediately wanted to take the ridiculous punishment back. They had tried time out's, but Effy would only come back more determined to cause a ruckus than before, so the pajamas punishment it was.

"You'll have to wear the gray ones from Gammy."

"I won't ever again."

"That's my good girl," Emily held in another laugh. That was how ridiculous her life had become. One night Fiona Duncan had dragged to meet up with Mallory Hanover, a woman that Emily never liked, and seven years later she was coming up with punishments like this. Punishments like being forced to wear Elizabeth Prentiss' pajamas— the girls adored their grandmother but hated her 'sophisticated' taste in children's clothing— or losing Spencer Reid-narrated bedtime stories when they were away on cases.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I like to talk to you. When I throw up I was sad, but now I'm not!"

"I _love_ talking to you." Emily's features quickly shifted from pure bliss to disappointment when she heard a little sigh over the phone.

"When can you be home with me?"

Emily eyes drifted down to the stack of papers on her lap and she briefly closed her eyes to ask that same question that always came up: _Is this worth it? _It was something she and JJ had talked about often. The grind of being a working mother. JJ had mostly understood, but she didn't really understand the weight on Emily because of her own childhood. Was she subjecting her two daughters to her same childhood? She would occasionally find herself torturing herself over the question, but ultimately the work was just too important. Emily didn't trust anyone else to keep her daughters, or anyone else's, safe. "Daddy is going to be home in a few hours to make you dinner. I'll be home tonight to put you to bed. Listen to Miss Joy and don't tease your sister, okay? Will you promise me?"

"I promise." Effy sounded more sad about not bothering Meredith than she did about losing her cat pajamas.

"I love you so much."

"Love you, Mummy."

Emily finally gave into a bit of laughter after she hung up the phone. It was nice to have a brief break from her work. She was roughly an hour away from interviewing a man who named himself 'El Diablo.'

* * *

Emily had left her weapon locked up at home, but she had made sure to dress in her most 'Agent Prentiss' clothes. A black pantsuit, grey button up oxford shirt, black belt, black boots, hair perfectly brushed back. She had worn no jewelry beside her black watch, no accessories. She had clipped the visitor's badge to her pants, hidden under the metal table in the cold, gray room. She had wanted to look as 'Agent' as possible. She wanted it to look as shadowy and off-the-record as possible.

She had made sure to get in the room before Guillermo. She didn't get up when they brought him in, chained and cuffed. She had also made sure to speak first in an authoritative voice. She was the alpha there.

"That won't be necessary," She told the guard, who seemed to want to stay behind in the room rather than wait outside.

"A Federale," Guillermo had taunted, showing his perfectly white teeth. He was around forty-five, heavy-set. His hair hadn't receded at all, but it was short and had grayed. He was short and heavy. His salt-and-pepper goatee was wide, like the rest of his face. He didn't have any facial tattoos. No, those were for the men beneath him. The truth was that all criminal organizations were the same when it came to their power structures, whether they were Mexican or American or Colombian or Irish. The 'servants' wore tattoos. The higher-ups wore Armani. Guillermo Alarcón had 'worn Armani' for a long time. That was what had made him dangerous. He had the power to have someone, anyone, killed. "I only let you in here because you, Agent Emily Prentiss, you're a fed."

"I'm not here as an Agent," Emily merely replied.

"Why are you here then?"

Emily simply responded, in the same flat tone, "I'm not here."

"Why _aren't_ you here?"

"I have an interest in what happened to Fiona Duncan."

Guillermo crossed his chubby arms at the statement. "Who was she to you? Friend?"

Emily's expression stayed blank, unreadable.

"Cousin?"

Still unreadable.

"Girlfriend?"

The vacant stare remained.

"Maybe you are the only who really killed her. Wanna make sure I stay here for you."

She knew he was trying to rattle her. It didn't work. "Maybe I am."

"You don't look FBI. You look more Central Intelligence," He guessed, shuffling around in his chair under her stare. "I looked you up, but maybe it was a cover."

"Your guess is as good as any."

The man looked over towards the corner where the guard had wanted to stay, "You aren't scared?"

"I'm not thirteen," Emily started as she placed her interlocked hands on the table, "That was the age of the girl who you threw into a vat of acid, wasn't it?"

Guillermo laughed at the question. "If I did, it would have been a tank. She would have been the daughter of a Colombian who didn't know his place. I didn't say I did," He slightly shrugged. "I only let you in here because I thought you might give me a deal."

"You keep saying that, but you don't let anyone anywhere anymore," Emily had nodded over to his shackles. "I decide here, and I told you I'm not here as an Agent. I don't make those kind of deals."

"All you feds want the same thing," He smiled again. "Talk, talk, talk."

"That's not my job," Emily replied flatly. "I'm not going to get you extradited to Mexico." His face dropped at the mention of Mexico. "I know your plan."

"Then I don't talk to feds."

"Good thing you're not then." She leaned forward on the table and looked the man straight in the eyes. "I want to talk about Fiona Duncan."

*****"Se Acabó."

"Quieres que esto termine, pero nunca terminará," Emily replied calmly, jarring the man. He was even more surprised when she said her next words. "No estoy convencido de que fueras tú."

"Usted."

"Tú," Emily corrected. Guillermo was a little unnerved. He was surprised. Surprised she spoke Spanish. Surprised she didn't fear him. Most of all, he was surprised she wasn't convinced he did it. "So tell me why you _didn't _do it."

Guillermo looked around the room and let out another one of his disinterested chuckles. "I threatened to kill the puta, because I threaten to kill people."

"You do it all the time." Emily hadn't posed it as a question.

"It works a lot faster than 'please.'"

Emily narrowed her eyes at the man, and observed a single drop of sweat that made its way from the top of his head to ear. He didn't move to try to brush it away. It was all about control. Both of them were all about control, but Guillermo Alarcón was in chains and Emily Prentiss wasn't. "If you were going to kill your defense attorney, how would you do it?"

"Off the record?"

"How can there be a record when I'm not here?" Emily asked. "I'm not here, and we're not talking."

"It'd be clean."

"The bodies you leave hanging all around Tijuana and Juarez say otherwise."

"That's different."

"Tell me."

Guillermo smiled, extra pleased by the request. "You want your workers scared, but not too scared."

"Or else they won't take you on." Guillermo had just nodded at her assessment. "I think that ship has sailed for you, Guillermo."

"You think you are so different, Agent? With your waterboarding and dogs? We are the same."

Emily knew what he had been trying to do. He had been trying to get under her skin. She ignored him. "How do you scare them back home?"

"You cut up their bodies. You put them up. Show them to the world." Guillermo sighed as if he cherished the memory. He probably did. He had a lot more leniency back home. His bosses had forced him to reign it in while in the States. Only kills with purpose were sanctioned. "It's as much torture for the witnesses as the killed."

"Explain it to me."

"They look up and think, 'That dude did something. I better do nothing.' It keeps them—"

"—In line?"

"In truth."

Emily once again didn't react to the man. "How do you do it? When you want to make them scared, how do you do it?"

"Looking for ideas?"

Emily just stared at the man. No response until he talked. She had known he had been in solitary for days. He wanted some human contact. She would only give it to him in reciprocity. Every word from her had to be earned through information.

"We take their heads, hearts, tongues...their little whistles." He chuckled and added: "Pitos."

"Would you ever take a bone?"

"No, men are not as attached to their bones as they are the other places."

"And defense attorneys? What are they most attached to?"

Guillermo leaned forward himself, his head only a few inches away from Emily's. "I have been around many who kill. I have said names to them. I didn't say this one." He moved back to lean against his cold, hard chair. "You are playing a dangerous game, Agent Prentiss."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean."

Those were the last words that were said between them. Guillermo was then brought back to solitary, and Emily went in the other direction out of the prison. Truthfully, Emily had known what he meant. If someone was brave enough to set up Guillermo Alarcón, or let him take their fall, they were either powerful or insane.

Emily Prentiss was afraid of neither.

* * *

"He's a psychopath, but he's not our psychopath," Emily had told Garcia as soon as the technical analyst had answered the phone. "One of Mick's favorite movies is _Seven Psychopaths, _and every time he bothers me to watch it again I just think: wouldn't that be perfect?"

"What?"

"If we only had seven psychopaths in our lives," Emily answered. The two women gave into a bit of dark laughter.

"What do you want from me, boss?" Garcia asked a little excitedly. She was glad to finally be of use to the brunette. Plus, Emily Prentiss had apparently just gotten Guillermo Alarcón to talk. All of her bosses were badass.

Meanwhile, Emily was walking through Penn Station to head back to D.C. Before she left, the Warden had asked Emily if she had gotten what she wanted out of her talk from Guillermo, and she had. She knew he wasn't her guy. He wasn't her guy, and it seemed like he didn't have any additional information. When she had brought up 'Mexico' he didn't try to pin the crime on another person. He didn't try to send her in a different direction, even though it might have meant his escape, his freedom. He didn't try to do that because he didn't have anyone to point her towards. That had meant one of two things.

Fiona was being followed and didn't think it was Guillermo, and didn't tell anyone else, including Emily. That was unlikely in Emily's opinion.

Or, it meant that Fiona didn't know she was living her life in front of an audience. Emily had found that possibility much more likely.

"I think we need to start a search. I don't think our killer is stopping here. I want you to give me an alert any time there's a murder that fit this case's parameters in the DMV area. I want to know if any women are savagely stabbed to death. Add in any missing bones too. We need—"

"—Another kill to get a clearer picture," Garcia completely with a sigh. It was the reality of their jobs. They could rarely do anything until several people had been killed.

Emily checked to make sure no one was around listening in on her conversation. That was another benefit of the jet. It didn't incite public panic. "Garcia, are you near a computer?"

"You know it, E."

"The M.E. files should be complete and in the system by now."

"Do not say another word," Garcia grinned as she started typing vigorously on her computer. "I will find them for you before you can even say— And I already got it. I am just _that _good."

"I don't doubt it," Emily laughed. "Okay, I need to know, was she drugged?"

"Yes, pumpkin. She also had a head contusion and ligature marks."

"Were the drugs Ketamine?"

"How did you—"

"—Our unsub is taking inspiration from Frank Breitkopf," Emily groaned and ran her free hand over her tired eyes. "Which bone did he take?"

"Collarbone."

"Not a rib?"

"No rib."

Emily bit her bottom lip in contemplation. Their unsub looked to be taking cues from Frank, but it had been sloppy. Looking through a lens of comparing Fiona's death to Frank's victims, the murder had been a sloppy replica. However, it was not sloppy enough to get caught, which led Emily to believe that this killer wasn't sloppy after all. Fiona Duncan just wasn't his goal. He was experimenting to find out what he likes.

"Is that bad?"

"I'm not sure yet," Emily admitted. "The collar bone is one of the easier bones to break. It's fragile. It would be easier to get to. Our unsub could be weak. He did have to hit her in the head, drug, and restrain her. Or he could be trying to find what methods he likes best. Try to kill like Frank Breitkopf one day, Jack-the-Ripper another. It could be impossible to find him until we get a concrete M.O. I don't know how long that could take."

"What are you thinking?"

Emily checked her watch. She would be in D.C. around seven. She had promised to tuck in Effy. She could just make it in time. "I'm thinking I should go check on the girls, but I need to finish a meeting first."

* * *

***Translation**

**Guillermo: **It's over

**Emily: **You want this to end, but it will never end...I'm not convinced that it was you.

Guillermo then attempts to correct Emily and say she should address him with the formal 'Usted," the respectful form of 'you.'

Emily disagrees.

* * *

**A/N- I have NOT abandoned or forgotten about this story. I have an outline and have always known the general plot, but I've had a bit of writer's block lately. I'm sorry it's taking me a while to update, but I don't want to finish this work on a half-hearted note. Either way I am finishing it before season 15 premieres. **

**Once again, thank you to everyone for reading and being patient with me.**


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